Drabble Challenge Rides Again
by Eskarina
Summary: 8D I'm back and doing another one! Fans of the first drabble challenge please return, newcomers also welcome, we have cookies. Parings vary, some yaoi, some het, rated for language and situations. I don't own Death Note.
1. Dagger

Yes, ladies and gentlefops, I'm back and attempting another one of these things, lol. :) There's gonna be tears, blood, love and happy endings, lets all enjoy the ride.

#1 Dagger

"You must be so proud." My voice echoes into the blackness.

The figure chained to the wall across from me doesn't move. Perhaps he thinks playing possum will make me take pity on them all.

I stay across the room from him, and eye those powerful limbs of his. Years of martial arts, of working to defend himself against the bullshit this world produces. If I was stupid enough to get close to him, he could and would take me out just using his legs.

That's why I left them unchained. He'll be thinking, hoping, wishing that I will just come close enough for him to use them.

But I'm not that stupid.

No. No, I've spent a long time working at not being stupid.

The boy shackled to the wall beside me gives a groan of pain. I grin; my eyes never leave the figure across from me.

"You must be so, so proud." I repeat. The dagger in my hand traces the boy's t-shirt. "He looks _so_ like you did, once."

The boy whimpers. I giggle.

"He's just _beautiful_, L." I purr, and use the flat of the blade to lift his son's chin. "all that gorgeous blonde hair…and such deep black eyes…" I scowl, my voice turning vicious, "Oh dear, look, he's got them closed. Can't have that, can we?"

Without prompting, the figure speaks in his monotone, "Jay, open your eyes."

The boy does.

They're brimming with tears. Pathetic. I wasn't lying, he is beautiful, and a copy of the man on the other wall, but little pieces of him spoil the image.

Like the blonde hair. In the darkness I can almost make-believe it's black though. And he doesn't have the black rings under his eyes like his father; this little boy's never had to miss a night's sleep in his life.

I bet L made sure of that. He was always so protective of his heirs, when they were little. L, the great defender of all the weak people in the world… If they could see you now, eh, L?

"He's got such fine skin too…" I whisper, and scrape the blade across the wall, enjoying the hiss. "Not like yours though, is it?"  
Across the room, L tenses.

I giggle. "No, no, this is more like _Misa's_."

Oh L, you sentimental fool. Always fell for strong women, didn't you? Angel, Naomi, and…

Well, little Miss Amane may not have looked it, but she was strong as an ox, wasn't she? She'd have to be to put up with Kira and the way he treated her.

I bet you loved that, rescuing her from him. Being her knight in shining armour, promising to protect her from all the wickedness in the world.

"Yes." I whisper. "Just like his mummy." I reach and trace the boy's cheek, he cries out.

L's head lifts, oh how sweet, he's checking to see if I hurt his precious son. As if he could do anything.

"Pity he's so worthless." I mutter, removing my hand. "Honestly, crying like a baby and I haven't even done anything… yet."

L scowls. "You will leave Jay alone."

I start to laugh, I can't help it. It's so damn funny. He really thinks if he just tells me to do something, I will. No, L, I'm not one of your heirs; you can't charm me with that soft, calm voice.

I turn my attention back to the boy.

He was how I found you, L. I faked my own death and got myself out of prison and started looking. I'm ashamed to admit you managed to elude me quite well. Then I saw his photograph.

L, did you really not think someone who knew your face wouldn't see it in him? Wouldn't find his name and work it all out?

"Tell me, little boy, What is your name?" I purr.

The boy chokes with fright. "J-Jay Amane."

I giggle and then punch him. His head collides with the wall and lolls forwards. He coughs.

L's chains jangle musically as he tries to save his son. "Jay!"

The blonde head lifts, groggily.

I smile down into those black eyes. "Try again. Your real name, little boy. Or has daddy told you never to reveal it to anyone?" I raise my eyebrow at L, "So paranoid about names."

Jay shudders. Then mumbles, "Justice Quillish Lawliet."

I start to giggle again. Darling, L gave his son such a wonderful name.

"Do you know what any of it means?" I question.

He doesn't reply. He's afraid of giving the wrong answer. It'd be such a shame for me to have to cut up that divine face of his.

I wave my blade before his eyes; they follow it like a hypnotist's medallion. "Justice, the English word for rightful retribution, the thing that your daddy over there strives to uphold."

L grunts somewhere behind me and tries to move.

"Quillish, the first name of his mentor and father figure, the only person your daddy ever entrusted his life to."

Little blonde Justice's breathing is shaky.

"And Lawliet, your family name, Italian, though god knows your daddy's got blood from all over the world. Italy, Russia, England… a couple of drops from Japan as well."

I take a step back and Justice relaxes just a little.

"Your daddy must have thought a lot of you, to give you all those special names." I purr. "and look what you've done in return, you led your mad uncle BB to him."

He shakes his head, sweat flies from his blonde hair. "You're nothing to do with me." He spits.

A sneer crosses my face; "Blood says differently, little boy. Shall we take some of yours out and compare it?"

"Excuse me."

I twitch and turn.

Next to the blonde boy, that's where I put the other one. She's shackled too. She doesn't look frightened. She doesn't look like _anything. _

No, that's a lie. Naughty me.

She looks like her father. Somehow. I don't understand how, because everything about her screams 'Misa Amane' to me, her little lace dress, her ebony hair up in a ponytail, tied with ribbons, her dainty little fairy-princess features.

But she looks like L. And it's deeper than just the rings under her eyes and the soft voice she's speaking in. It's in her whole manner, in the way she's not panicking at all, the way she's daring to look directly into my eyes and not flinch like her big brother.

"Yes?" I reply.

She clenches and unclenches her pale white palms, trying to keep the blood flowing.

"Tsuki wishes to know what the point of all this is. You obviously intend to kill everyone in this room, so why are you wasting time?"

Jay wriggles, doubtless he wants to tell her to shut up.

I grin.

"Clever girl." I say softly. "How old are you?"

She barely blinks. "Seven and three months, two days, about five hours and…" she tilts her head, face screwing up in thought, "What time is it exactly?"

I smirk and ignore her. "Oh L, now she's something special. You must have hated when you found out the poor little thing has autism. Like daddy like daughter, hm?"

L doesn't move. Playing possum again.

I crouch down to his daughter's level. "Are you scared, little one?"

She blinks those huge black eyes at me.

"Brian Lawliet." She says in her father's voice.

How did she…

I squint and look harder at her eyes.

And then I laugh. I laugh and laugh until I feel my sides start to hurt and a tear runs down my cheek.

"Oh L… this is just precious." I choke out. "She's got my eyes!"

The little girl's face is impassive. "Insane man will please stop laughing."

I scowl.

Insane? Could someone whose insane have planned all this? Have kidnapped L's precious little children and him all in one go? Have got all three to a secret place?

I raise the blade to her tiny throat. I can see her pulse pumping frantically in the vein there. So she is frightened.

"Don't you touch her!!" Jay yells.

"B, Tsuki did not mean any harm, she's only a child." L tries to reason.

I smirk. "Tsuki, eh? Named her after the greatest capture of your life, L?"

He shakes his head, responding now he believes it might rescue his daughter. It won't, it'll just delay the inevitable.

"Tsuki is called that because her eyes were very round and wise when she was born." His voice is still a monotone, but he's speaking faster.

I turn my attention back on the little girl. "What about your middle name, hmm?" Rem?"

She breathes slowly. One deep gulp could cut her throat. "Rem was Mummy's mother."

How dull. Things are getting boring now. Maybe I should take one of his children's fingers off, or a toe, maybe the little girl's ear.

I hear the faint click of metal on metal. A gun's safety catch being taken off.

"Drop the knife, B."

I don't have to turn around. I know that voice. Last time I heard it, it was still unbroken, childish. Now it's aged, and wise to the ugliness of the world.

"Mello."

Fingers tense on the trigger. "Drop it and move away from the kids, now."

A second click. Did he bring two guns?

"You heard the man, B. Don't make us have to kill you in front of them."

Haha, what a little reunion. Mello's little pet came along too. Sounds like he smokes, his voice is thick and deep. Mello gave him a gun to play with, by the sound of it he's not entirely comfortable with it.

"Mail, Mihael, no need to start firing bullets all over the place… you might hit someone."

Matt's hand trembles slightly, but Mello's made of tougher stuff, it seems.

"Still wearing your cross, Mihael?" I whisper. "The one your mother gave you? Just before she died? Does god forgive murderers and sodomites?"

Mello snarls. Lucky guess on my part that he'd turn out religious and homosexual, a difficult thing for a Catholic. That's right, get angry and make a stupid mistake like you always do.

"Ignore him Mells. He's just trying to get at ya."

"Yes, Mihael, listen to your boyfriend… listen to the reason you'll burn in hell." I add.

I hear Mello move, the snarl in his voice. "You're the fucker who's going to hell, B."

Second lucky guess. Come on, get closer to me, and give me the opportunity I need to take you down.

"Mello." Matt's voice is shaking. "Calm down for god's sake."

Remarkably, I hear the devout behind me quell his rage. Damn.

Plan B then. Hehehe.

"L." I say the name reverently.

"Yes, Beyond?"

I smirk. "You really should be very proud."

And then I drive the blade into my chest.


	2. Red

#2 Red

Beside me, he coughs, clears his throat of smoke. The yellowish cigarette in his hand flickers and dies as he grinds it to death in the ashtray by his bedside.

"Mi bello." He purrs, putting on the very best spanish accent he can. He was born there, of course, but he was raised in England, his voice is no more exotic with accent than mine when he's speaking naturally. He just knows the words and is able to roll his 'R's in that certain way.

One of his little-known talents, being able to put on just about any accent requested.

He pushes himself onto his elbows and kisses my cheek. "Mi bello Mihael."

We must look like a couple of bohemian poets. Laying in bed like this, naked but for where the single thin sheet is tangled around our waists, him smoking those cheap cigs like a chimney. In a pathetically furnished room, only the bed and a single lamp, on his bedside table made from a couple of empty market crates.

Because I didn't inherit the house fortune that Near did. I'm providing for us on what little is let of the mafia funds and whatever the red-head beside me can bring in from hacking for hire. That irritating little scab, Near… I bet he's spending what he has on toys, we're just barely making it from one meal to the next.

We're better than this. Both of us, we were born geniuses; we should be in mansions with chocolate-bar shaped pools.

Last real big expenditure was his birthday present, I suppose. He was turning twenty and he'd always said he wanted a real sports car one-day. A red one, because they went faster, or so he said.

So on his birthday, I gave him a little package. And I know he would have been happy, or at least pretended to be, with any small token of affection. But the way his eyes lit up when he saw those car keys in that box…

If I never do anything else with my worthless life, I think did enough for him in that moment for him to love me forever.

I remember how he ran down to the parking lot like a little boy on christmas morning, how he stroked the lines of that car and whispered reverently that it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen…

No, the most beautiful thing, excluding me.

Because in his eyes, even with this hideous scar… even with this tortured soul and temper like a lion…

"Mi bello." He purrs once more. Then sighs and drops the accent. "Hey, earth to Mello. Come in Mello."

I turn and smile.

Even with all that, to him I'm the most beautiful thing in the world.


	3. Memory

#3 Memory

It happened so long ago, it almost feels like it all took place in some other world.

Such a long, painful time since I was a mere bored boy in that classroom, watching a black speck descend from the sky.

And now I sit in a golden throne adorned with the logo of Kira, trinkets and tributes from my grateful worshippers litter the floor around me. It's been a long day, dealing with the faithful.

Mikami smiles beside me, "Kami-sama, that is all the worshippers for today who wished an audience with you." He bows deeply. "Shall I prepare your bath?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. Between him, Misa and Takada, I'm growing weary of such adoration.

Heh… but there is my little secret, down in the dungeons of this building… _his_ building.

I rise from my golden throne, "No, Mikami. I'll retire early tonight, being god takes it out of me."

He laughs faintly, the idiot. I stroll past him to the lift and press the button for the basement.

I watch the numbers roll past slowly.

It's like watching time go backwards.

I remember how he fought, how he bit my hand, the first foolish time I touched his cheek, when he was imprisoned. I have a scar in his teeth marks.

That's why I keep him around. To this day he's fighting me, though he must know he's lost, once and for all. His heirs, his pride and joy? Reduced to pets. I handed them out to my most loyal followers.

The one called Mello cried when I tore him from his lover's arms, I remember that. And I broke his stupid little crucifix before his eyes.

He was so easily destroyed. Near took more time, but I broke him too. Now if asked who their god is, they both reply 'Kira'. Sometimes I play a recording of it in front of _him_, just to wind him up.

There's a hiss as the doors of the lift open, the cold air from down here hits the warmth carried down from my living quarters.

I walk along the concrete floor slowly, because I know he's the same as he always has been, and will be counting the steps.

Ah, there he is. He even looks the same, same white shirt and baggy jeans, sitting the same way in one corner of that cell he once forced me into.

"Good evening, L." I purr.

*Leave me alone, Kira."

I laugh. "Now now L… you're here only because you remind me of younger days… now say it, say it like you used to, and I might even let you have some strawberries." I pause, then growl, "What is the percentage?"

He sighs, buries his head in his knees. Then he mumbles out, "One hundred percent, Yagami-kun."

Just like I remember.


	4. Lost

#4 Lost

This was so unutterably humiliating.

Near scowled to himself as he stumbled around yet another corner and found nothing more than a long, white corridor, exactly the same as the last.

Oh, his kingdom for a sign. Or a map. A map would be good, he was very good at map-reading, he could apply visual information to the real world with ease. Not like Mello, who had become frustrated with the task and torn his own map in half not ten minutes after Roger had set them the task of finding hidden objects in the house…

Near shook his head. Damn internal tangents.

Had he been down this one already?

Why hadn't the SPK thought to tell him roughly how to get back down to the main room? More to the point, why had they put his bedroom so far away?

All right, concentrate, he'd been down three corridors already, all identical, and he was sure he hadn't gone down any stairs, so logically this was the last hallway of this floor and he'd come to some stairs soon.

Unless there was a slight slant and he'd gone down a floor.

Where was the elevator? There was one last night, wasn't there?

Or had he been so jetlagged and exhausted that he'd imagined it?

He opened one of the doors experimentally and found a broom cupboard.

There ought to be nice, clear signs all over everything. Then this sort of thing wouldn't happen. Children wouldn't get lost in huge buildings and-

He was _not_ lost. Near clarified in his head. He just didn't know his precise location within the building. He was _not_ lost.

Frustrated, he opened another door.

Who the _hell_ needed so many broom cupboards on one floor? How dirty did this place get? Why would you even _have_ a broom up here, a vacuum would work much better!

Sighing, he slid down against one of the walls, resting his legs a moment while he considered his options.

Well, he could keep going and mindlessly opening doors, shout for help, or try and make his way back to bed.

Why hadn't anyone come to wake him up?

Oh yes, because he told them he was jetlagged and wanted to sleep in. Damn it all to blood-spewing gut-rotting hell.

Still, it had to be almost midday by now, his stomach was grumbling about not having anything in it. So someone should have come to fetch him.

If Mello could see this, he would have laughed. Poor little Near-lamb, lost in his own building, and no-one's even noticed yet.

Stupid, _stupid_ building.

Near's head lifted as he heard something, nor far around the corner he just turned.

And suddenly his mind whisperd that maybe no-one came to get him because someone got _them_ first.

He struggled to his feet and started to run. Thank god his socks muffled the sound of his footsteps on the thick carpet.

But it was following him, oh god, someone was in this endless circle of corridors with him and he had no way of defending himself and _why_, _why_ had he ever agreed to help the Americans with this stupid endeavour to catch Kira? Why hadn't he stayed behind and let Mello get on with it?

Oh god, it was gaining, he couldn't run forever and he couldn't hide in one of these _pointless_ broom closets and-

He fell, and grazed his knee.

And not a moment later Gevanni was standing over him, head on one side, enquiring as to why he was running, and didn't he realise the elevator was built into the wall of his bedroom, this was the cleaner's floor he'd wandered into.

Near merely snarled that he had _not_ been lost, and Gevanni was not to tell anyone about this.


	5. Mouse

#5 Mouse

He was a very quiet boy. He had to be. No-one talked to him, other than his mum, and she had passed away.

No-one bothered to explain to him what the big hole in the ground was for, or why his mother wasn't going to be around anymore.

With her gone, he lost his only ally against his father's drunken rages. Yelling at the boy for not being smarter, for not concentrating, for all kinds of things.

At school, he was only spoken to by the teacher. And she only spoke to him to scold him for not paying attention and being unable to answer any of the questions she asked him.

He'd long ago stopped coming home from school on time. Knowing his father was there was enough of an excuse for him to find any number of distractions.

It wasn't just fear that kept him away. The colours in the world around him fascinated him. The colour of the sand and the ocean and how at the edge, the two mingled together, yellow and blue.

The teacher yelled at him when he said that Yellow and Blue together made brown.

But they did, at the ocean's edge it was always brownish-yellow, not green.

The other children called him bad names, because he was stupid.

He didn't realise that not everyone saw the world in a series of bright colours and blurred lines.

One day he was very late getting home. He was so late his father was angrier than usual. He demanded to know why he had to put up with a stupid child like this, a stupid child and a lazy wife who was better off in the ground than she ever had been alive.

He broke Mail's arm.

Mail didn't scream. He didn't make a sound until the next morning in school, when someone pushed him down in the playground. Then he screamed. He screamed until they had call an ambulance just to sedate him.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital. He knew that because when his mother had been ill, he'd come to visit her here, with his grandmother. His father hadn't come.

They asked him a lot of questions. At least these ones he could answer.

Who hurt your arm? Dad.

Who gave you all those bruises? Dad… and the kids at school.

He was bored there. One of the nice ladies who wore white all the time brought him a notebook and some coloured pencils, though it was hard for him to use them with a hurt arm.

He drew all the colours around him, he even showed the nice white-clothes lady how the yellow and the blue made a funny shade of brown, not green.

For a while he began to think he could live in this place forever, it was easier to concentrate, with white all around. He didn't say that, of course, because he was always quiet.

Then one day an old man came to see him. Older than his father, anyway. And another boy, with thick black hair and big black rings under his eyes.

He spoke to Mail. And he spoke in a very soft voice so he didn't flinch away.

"Hello. I'm L."

Mail didn't say anything, he just blinked.

L smiled a little and picked up the notebook of colours. "These are pretty… you like colours?"

Mail nodded.

L nodded back, "A lot of people around here seem to think you're stupid. I don't think you are. A stupid person wouldn't have noticed all these colours."

Mail felt the blood leave his face. He was sure he'd be sent back to the school.

L offered the notebook back. "Mail, do the colours distract you a lot?"

Mail nodded. He never meant to look away from class, but all the colours were so pretty that-

L nodded, "It's possible, Mail, that you have a deficiency of Oxytocin in your brain. It's a chemical and it can effect your perception of colours…" he trailed off, realising the boy wasn't comprehending. "I'm sorry… basically, it's not your fault the colours distract you."

Mail swallowed. "…Hard to see things sometimes."

L tilted his head. "…You have problems with vision?"

Mail nodded, courage growing when he wasn't scolded for speaking. "I can see it when I'm close but when I move away it gets too blurry."

L smiled and patted his head, noting the little boy's flinch at the touch, unused to friendly contact. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can fix that… and you don't have to be scared of your father anymore."

L yelled at the boy's teacher later. He had a few questions of his own for the woman, starting with why hadn't she noticed he was injured all the time?

Why hadn't she thought that he might not be able to see the board?

She hadn't been able to say anything.

Mail's father hadn't spoken a word during the trial, either. Hadn't even tried to defend his actions.

On the flight to England, Mail fell asleep against L's arm.

Watari smiled across at his young ward. "You believe he has a touch of genius?"

L nodded, "He hasn't been given the chance to show it, but you saw the drawings. No ordinary child draws things in that much detail. We can channel his intelligence."

Watari chuckled faintly and patted the little boy's arm. "Funny, I wouldn't expect it, he's as quiet as a mouse."


	6. Brown

#6 Brown

Such an _angry_ child…

Apparently incapable of sharing with the other kids in his orphanage… but strong and clever… and devious with it. He ruled the playground with an iron fist. No-one dared argue with Mihael. And those that did very quickly found themselves in the nurses office with bleeding noses and blackened eyes.

As it said on all of his reports, he wasn't a _bad_ child at heart, but something about the world seemed to make him furious at everyone around him, and he didn't seem to have any idea how to express himself without violence.

This information made Watari consider not taking the boy into the house after all, gifted children were one thing, but violent ones were another.

But L had taken one look at the files on the boy and folded his arms, set his features to their most determined expression and said softly:

"If my mother had died giving birth to me, I would be angry at myself too."

Watari had blinked. "Himself?"

L nodded. "More than likely that he is violent because he is angry at himself, he believes he was the thing that killed his mother. Having no-one to reassure him that it is not so, he resorts to expressing his frustration on everyone else." He smiled. "I think Mihael needs a friend."

So they went to Croatia, to pick up the angry little boy.

~*~*~

L found Mello sulking outside in the playground. He was digging up an ant's nest.

"Hello Mihael. I'm L."

"Piss off."

L blinked. He'd expected hostility from the boy, but not that quickly.

"That's not very polite." He spoke with caution. "Why are you digging that nest up?"

Mihael shrugged.

"It's not very nice. I bet those ants worked for several of their lifetimes to build that nest."

Mihael shrugged again. "Well now they're dead. Sucks to be them."

L sighed and crouched next to Mihael, watching the little insects running around in terror.

"Do you enjoy hurting things?"

Mihael's furious digging stopped.

L smiled a little. "I don't think you like hurting things at all. Not insects or your classmates. I think you're just scared someone might realise you're a lonely little boy."

The boy threw a punch, but L was faster than he was, caught his fist in one hand and lowered it slowly.

"See? I hit a nerve there, didn't I?"

Mihael turned away, his long blonde locks making him look like an angel in the twilight. His hand went to the rosary that hung around his neck.

"You miss your mum." L stated. "Mihael, it's okay to be sad and scared, you're a child, no-one expects you to have to deal with everything on your own like this."

Mihael's body shuddered. L realised slowly that the boy was struggling to hold in tears. He sighed and held one hand out to him.

"If you need someone to talk to, it's okay to say so."

Mihael dove into L's arms and clung on tightly, as though he was afraid the older boy would vanish if he let go.

After a moment or two, L reached into one pocket and removed a chocolate bar.

"Would Mihael like a piece?"

Mihael grabbed the whole bar from his hand and tore into the foil around it. L would have told him off, had the boy not looked so cute, mouth smothered with rich brown chocolate. No longer a little tyrant or an angel, just a lonely child.


	7. Rose

A/N: Yes, in this chapter I am referring to the image in the opening credits of the anime.

#7 Rose

"L!! L!!" Misa's high-pitched cry bounced into the room, almost spreading a trail of pink light and flowers behind it over the cold steel that lined the computer hub of L's building.

L turned slightly from his computer screen, ebony eyes fixing on her as she skipped into the room, her pigtails and frilly skirt bouncing behind her.

Misa giggled and blew him a kiss, every movement a perfect pose for a magazine's front page. With a giggle she finished skipping over the cold tiles to her beloved L-kun and waved a photograph under his nose.

L blinked, and turned his steady gaze down.

There she was, beautiful as ever, lips red and pouting, hair trailing down her back like molten gold, eyes staring into the camera and at the same time into his soul. Clad in one of the more revealing dresses she owned, tempting the viewer of the photo to believe that she might show them more than just her stocking-tops, if only for the briefest of seconds.

And she was laying on a bed of red roses, her hands clasped around a bouquet of them like a pillow.

L raised one eyebrow.

"It is a photo of Misa-chan."

Misa's cheerful smile faded instantly. She'd been hoping this rather racy and suggestive photograph from one of her recent shoots, not to be released to the public, might get a rise of out of L.

Not that she was bored with him, but she wanted him to be a little more… romantic. No, not so much romantic… more… well, masculine.

Misa was used to men _noticing_ how attractive she was, and showing it with stares and occasional light touches to her arm or waist. And while L told her regularly that she was attractive, he never seemed to stare at her in the way she was used to. The way she really wanted _him_ to. Oh, she adored him and the way he treated her with respect that she had never known, but once in a while she wanted to know that he found her as attractive as all the other men in her life found her.

"Misa-chan is aware that laying on roses like that is highly hazardous?" L inquired, biting on his thumbnail as his other hand took hold of one corner of the photo, as though it was diseased.

Misa's expression of mild disappointment rapidly turned into a scowl that marred her pretty features.

"That's _all_ you have to say!?" she snapped. "L! Look at it!"

"I am."

Misa groaned. "You don't think you should have any other comments?"

L shrugged. "What would Misa-chan like me to say?"

Misa clenched her fists, "Urgh! How can you be so _dense?!_ How about something like 'Wow! Misa, you're so sexy!' or 'Misa-chan looks irresistible!'"

L lowered the photo slowly, blinking his endless black eyes slowly at her pouting face.

"Misa-chan appears to be under some misunderstanding as to what L finds attractive about her." He stated calmly. "L cares for Misa because of her intelligence and her compassion towards others, for the _life_ she has inside her, for the way she can find a reason to smile even when everything is going wrong."

He let out a low sigh and glanced at the photograph again. "Certainly L's feelings are not purely based on the fact that Misa is quite possibly the sexiest thing on two legs." His raven eyes fixed on her over the top of the picture, flickering mischievously for just a second.


	8. Life

#8 Life

Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and sinners all, don't stand so far back, you'll catch a chill. The nights in the realm of the real and unreal are so very cold. Huddle together, if it will help.

Some of you will recognise me, I, the notebook that takes lives. Remember my fine leather bindings, my soft, slightly yellowing pages, I am very old, after all, one cannot stay young and perfect forever.

But for those among you who do not remember me, I am the object known in your universe as the Death note.

I have been many things… and in this form, you may flip through my pages and see them all. Turn the cover, and you will see that the pages are made of animal hide, a scrap of leather and leaves, and the writing upon me, mere scratches, a lost language of your ancestors.

Turn these pages and you will find eventually you come to thick, wadded paper, woven bark, inks made of melted stones. Names written with pictures of things you no longer have names for.

And sometimes scroll-pages are slipped into my binding, from days of knights and castles, of brave samurais and selfish princes.

Still further, you will come across the first signs of your own language. Letters you understand in words you almost recall.

And finally, the fine lines of a school notebook, names written in a neat script. Except for the last name. That is a scrawl, whoever wrote it has helpfully drawn a crescent moon beside it.

You see, I have had a long existence. I could hardly call it a life.

I shall tell you something now, which I have never told anyone.

I deeply resent being told that killing people is always wrong.

As it happens, _I_ do not consider what my powers do, murder. I am merely a book, which separates the soul from the earthly vessel. What others choose to write in me is of little consequence to myself.

And in any case, observing how you human beings treat one another I believe that death is the only friend to the sick old man or starving and crying child, with my powers I take away the pain and end the suffering that life gives them.

Murder is something you as a species invented. It's not for me to interfere. I suppose with the right person, I could be used for good. Or evil. The point I am making is that I myself do not choose to cause harm.

I find it very odd that you creatures choose to use the brief interval of life you have been given being generally unpleasant to one another, but I suppose it is yours to do with as you wish.

But it seems like an awful waste of what amounts to a very short life.


	9. Pain

#9 Pain

Matsuda was like a magnet for accidents. He'd known that since he was five years old and his class' goldfish had spontaneously leapt out of its bowl and out the window five minutes after it was announced he would be in charge of feeding it.

It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't as though he was clumsy per se, he was doubly-careful of much of his work simply because he knew if it could go wrong, it would go wrong for him.

Still bad things just seemed to happen around him. And despite this, he also seemed to have an unbelievable amount of luck when it came to actually getting promotions. He reasoned that people were trying to put him in a job where he couldn't cause any trouble.

And for a while that worked, he liked the office work he did working with Chief Yagami's section, and though he was considered the best with his gun, he preferred it now he wouldn't have to fire the damn thing so often.

He even began to believe that the curse of bad things happening around him was gone.

And then he chose to work with L. He should have known before he volunteered that his magnet-like tendency for accidents would come back when it mattered the most that he be careful and do no wrong.

It was back almost ten minutes after actually meeting the detective. His phone magically turned itself back on and began playing 'Carmelldansen' at top volume in the middle of L's explanation of something complicated.

L had glared at Matsuda like he wanted to kill him with a fork.

About three days into the investigation Matsuda tripped over one of the wires in the hotel room and fell against Watari, sending cake and coffee over L and knocking the air out of the old man.

L had carefully helped his elderly butler back to his feet, and then growled at Matsuda that if he ever did something like that again, he would live to regret it.

That night was the first night Matsuda genuinely felt like it was his entire fault.

He'd left the building early, intending to tell chief Yagami tomorrow that he was resigning from the Kira case and going back to his nice safe office job where he couldn't screw anything up anymore.

He wandered around Tokyo in something of a daze, feeling drained. Somehow it meant more that L had told him off, not the chief, Aizawa or Ide, but L.

He stared up at the neon lights of the city and mumbled to himself that L was right to be angry with him, what if Watari had been seriously hurt? Or that coffee had been hot when half of it spilt over L? He was just lucky no-one had been seriously damaged.

He was the problem. He knew it. He should just go and live somewhere where he couldn't cause anyone any more pain.

He heard a crashing sound that brought him racing back to earth. He stared in utter befuddlement at the two cars that had collided two feet front of him, then without thinking, raced over while viciously stabbing numbers into his phone.

He ended up rescuing a woman and her infant from one of the cars, all the time wondering if it was because bad things happened around him that the accident had occurred.

The next morning when he went into work he was told L had heard about what he had done and was impressed with his quick thinking.

And it occurred to Matsuda that maybe so long as he was good and quick at cleaning up the messes he made, he might stand a chance of being useful to the investigation after all.


	10. Bar

#10 Bar

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Mello scowled from his seat at the bar, the chocolately liqueur in his shot glass swishing up the sides and leaving milky trails on the glass.

He should have been the centre of attention, his slender and perfect body was wrapped in tight black leather showing off just enough to make everyone want a little more, silver chains swaying and catching the low lights in this dive. His golden hair fell flawlessly around his fine, handsome features.

He should have had his pick of anyone in the bar.

His navy eyes were fixed on the very thing that was preventing that.

That thing was Matt.

Mello growled to himself and took another swig of his drink. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

He scowled to himself, recalling the little boy he'd left behind at Wammy's. Skinny, short for his age, with a body that looked like it was made of elbows. Gangly, with slightly greasy red hair and a pair of thick glasses that magnified his eyes and made him look like an insect. And he'd had acne; puberty wasn't kind to Matt.

In fact, as Mello recalled, what facial hair the kid did grow came out in tufts that made him look diseased. And anyway, he never knew how to dress, everything he owned clashed.

Matt was _supposed_ to stay like that. A huge dork, undesirable forever, while Mello was the pretty one.

Matt was _not_ supposed to grow up to look… like that.

His body had filled out, now he was tall and well-built, evenly muscled, his hair was soft and more crimson than before, his glasses had been replaced by goggles that somehow accentuated his clean-cut features, the slight shadow of morning stubble on his face making him look deeply masculine and frankly, sexy.

And those stupid clothes that used to clash so horribly were _working_ now. The weird jeans fitted snugly in all the right places; the striped shirt accentuated muscles Mello was sure Matt never had before.

And because of all that, Matt was the centre of attention. Several girls had already gone over asking him to dance with them and now he was entangled with one under the flashing lights, moving with her in time to the pounding music.

Mello snarled. How _dare_ Matt get cute? Wasn't he aware that his only purpose was to belong to Mello?

Besides, Mello was the hot one of the two of them, which was how it always had been.

Furious, and maybe a little drunk, the blonde rose from the barstool and stormed across the dance floor to the pair. In one movement he grabbed the girl's hair and yanked her backward with a snap of:

"Hands off my property, ho."

And then he calmly inserted himself into the space she had occupied in Matt's arms, curling his own slim limbs around the red-head's neck.

Matt blinked for a moment, then smiled and kept moving.

"How many have you had?" he enquired in that rough, musky tone. Damn his cigs for making his voice sexy.

Mello shrugged.

Matt rolled his eyes behind those sheets of yellow plastic. "Jealous?"

Mello scowled. "No." he saw the smirk forming on Matt's face and snapped out quickly, "Okay, maybe, but not of that bitch."

Matt laughed, nuzzling Mello's hair a moment before purring into his ear, "Like I could ever be as gorgeous as you." He nipped slightly on the earlobe before continuing, "They're all just intimidated by how sexy you are… they figure I'm easy cuz I'm not that cute."

Mello smiled like a cat with (chocolate) cream. "Mmm, say more things like that."

Matt chuckled against his throat. "Love you boss. I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

Mello sighed and relaxed against him totally, mumbling out, "Mm. Me too."


	11. Promise

#11 Promise

Misa's tears fell like raindrops onto the pillow.

Already she missed Light. And it was stupid because he was still there, but now he was dragging that stupid detective around by the wrist, he wouldn't be able to hold her or kiss her or anything she so wanted him to.

And it didn't matter how many childish insults she laid on Ryuzaki, because he genuinely couldn't care less that her heart was breaking every moment she was apart from Light.

"Misa?"

She looked up from her tearstained pillow, mascara in trails down her cheeks, eyes as big and blue as the ocean.

There was Light at the door, behind him L was hovering uncomfortably.

Light smiled and opened his arms a little way.

Misa leapt to her feet and ran to him, knocking the boy slightly off-balance as she dove into the hug, nuzzling her face to the fresh scent of his shirt and feeling more at home there than anywhere else.

"Light..." She whimpered.

His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face towards him, the handcuff brushed her neck slightly.

"Come on now, crying never solved anything." He whispered, his lips brushing her forehead. "I promise you, Misa, I will catch Kira and clear my name. Then we can be together."

Misa felt her heart flutter in her chest, and believed every word.

~*~*~

She watched in slight terror as his caramel eyes darkened. Had they always had that reddish tint?

Had he always looked so merciless or was it the influence of the creature? Was Ryuk's presence somehow changing Light?

Light smiled and hissed without moving his lips, "Long time no see, Ryuk."

Misa gulped. Then mumbled softly, "Light… I made the trade again."

She'd never seen Light look surprised like that before. His eyes widened. Then a soft and gently and loving smile spread across his face, and slowly he curled his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.

"You idiot." He purred into her ear, but he spoke affectionately. "You beautiful, wonderful idiot."

She nuzzled his shoulder. "I'd do anything for you, Light… My life isn't worth anything without you."

"Misa… for what you have done…" he whispered in her ear, making her shudder slightly at the sensation, "I promise that before your lifetime runs out, you will see our perfect world."

Behind them, Ryuk laughed.

~*~*~

She knelt on the carpet, mopping up the spilt drink with a towel. It soaked into the knees of her jeans as well. Her manicure was ruined.

She saw the tears hit the carpet before she felt them running down her face. She stayed there for a while, watching the droplets merge with the drink.

She'd only wanted to make him smile… he seemed so angry… he always used to like when she did things like that, when they first moved in together. He used to like her making him drinks or massaging his shoulders. He said it was comforting to know he could always come home to one of her home-cooked meals and a hot bath.

Now he just snapped at her all the time…

Maybe he didn't love her anymore. Now she'd grown up a little more, she wasn't so gothic and cute…

"Misa."

Her head jolted up and quickly she scrubbed at her face, trying to hide the redness.

Light sighed from his spot in the doorway. "… It wasn't your fault."

Misa shrugged, her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders. "I was bothering you."

She felt him clasp her to his chest, and she closed her eyes, that feeling of total bliss overriding all other senses.

"No, I just took it out on you, I shouldn't have."

She nuzzled closer to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne. "Mmm… promise me we'll always be together."

"I promise."

~*~*~

The wind whipped at her dress and her hair, threatening to throw her over the edge too soon. She gripped the railing tighter, and tried to breathe enough of the thin air to get her words out.

"You promised… you promised." She whispered to the clouds. As though they might break open with all the answers she so desperately sought.

But they did not.

She closed her eyes, and let go.


	12. Tree

#12 Tree

"…How on earth did _this_ happen?" Roger demanded, staring up into the oak tree that dominated the majority of the garden.

In among the leaves, three little faces peered back at him. None of them looked like they were about to start telling him exactly how the top three ranked children in the house had managed to get themselves stuck in a tree, of all places.

"I'm waiting. I can wait all day if I need to." Roger tried; already knowing this threat wouldn't work.

"You can't leave us up here, that constitutes child abuse. L would be displeased." Near called down to the old caretaker.

Roger frowned. "All right, but whichever one of you tells me what happened to get you all up there is the one who gets to keep his toys, games or chocolate."

For a second they were silent.

Then three voices chimed in at once.

"Well Near said-"

"And Mello said that climbing frames are for girls in skirts-"

"So we came over here, and Mello decided it had to be a contest, as usual…"

"Shut up sheep cripple!! Anyway I got up here-"

"And I was down there judging who got the highest…"

"I slipped and grabbed Mello's foot, and the branch snapped."

"So I scrambled up cuz I thought Mello was gonna fall and die-"

"Can you not mention death?!"

"Sorry."

"Matt then grabbed my arm to try and make me let go of Mello-"

"Mello fell on Near…"

"Then sheep-boy fell on Matt and we all snapped the branch he was sitting on!"

"Please stop calling me sheep-boy. Luckily Matt broke both our falls by landing on this rather sturdy branch."

"Hah, I saved both your lives. I should be 1st."

"In your goddamn dreams! It's your fault anyway!"

"I fail to see how this is anyone's fault but Mello's. Suffice to say this particular branch is not close enough to any of the others for us to get to them, nor is it low enough for us to jump without injuring ourselves."

"I told you if you jump first we can land on you and we'll be fine, sheepy."

"Mello makes a good point, 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. Some wise dead guy said that."

"I don't believe whomever said that was referring to a genius sacrificing his life for two idiots."

"WHAT!? Matt! Hold my chocolate, I'm gonna decorate this tree with Near's insides!"

"Wait Mello-"

There was a threatening creak from the branch the three boys were sitting on and Mello froze.

"And now none of us can see how to get down again." Near finished in a very soft voice.

Roger sighed and wondered how long it would take before the staff found a ladder long enough to rescue the three so-called geniuses.


	13. Death

#13 Death

(A/N: Ironically this one was difficult to write, go figure.)

She stared out the window at the slowly falling snow. Hundreds of white specks, beautiful and individual, and at the same time, each one was lost in the crowd.

She wondered if it snowed in heaven. Or did angels throw dust from their wings and that became the snow?

"Sayu-chan."

She turned and smiled at her dear, elderly mother, calmly icing blue frosting onto the cake, in intricate patterns as she wrote _his _name in block capitals across the dessert.

"We havn't made Light-kun's birthday cake from scratch for a long time." Sayu commented.

Sachiko nodded. "Well, he never was very big on sweets… and once he moved out he just… seemed too grown-up for cakes on his birthd…birth…" the old woman choked a little on the word, lowering the frosting bag to the counter top, refusing to look at the name she'd written.

Sayu hugged her mother as the tears came. "It's okay…" she whispered, feeling the pinpoints of salty tears on her own cheeks. "Light-kun wouldn't want either of us to cry… neither would daddy…"

Sachiko cried harder on her daughter's shoulder. They stayed that way for some time, allowing each other a brief window of time to grieve.

They dressed in their best black clothes, and left for the family plot, ignoring the snow and happy people chattering about the holidays around them.

They stood in front of the two graves and held their hands in prayer, watched the wind blow out the candle on Light's cake, spoke softly to the graves about what was happening in the world, as though someone might hear.

Sayu stared up at the sky.

"Light always said…" She whispered. "That graveyards were for the living, not the dead." She sighed. "I never understood what he meant… until he passed." She held out one hand and watched the snowflakes land and melt on it, such a brief, beautiful pocket of existence. "Graveyards are so the living have somewhere to remember."

That night Sachiko suffered a sudden and fatal brain haemorrhage.

The last Yagami came every year with a cake and snowflakes.


	14. Love

#14 Love

"What should L say?"

L's big black eyes stared pleadingly at his heirs, the three boys who were now three young men in their own right, and his beloved caretaker of many years, calmly handing around the drinks and snacks.

They were to be his groomsmen tomorrow, and Watari his best man. He was getting married.

And until this moment he had very successfully managed to put off writing his vows. He wasn't sure how his bride to be had even convinced him to write his own thoughtful words of love. Certainly had he been in his right mind he never would have agreed to such a task.

The boys stared at him for a moment.

Mello shrugged, always first to voice his opinion. "Just say some random crap about how much you love her, that's all she'll wanna hear anyway." He took a bite of his chocolate bar, relishing the snap.

Matt rolled his eyes, "You have got to be the least romantic person on earth, Mells."

"You got a better idea, goggle-boy?"

L winced, "Matt and Mello will please not fight. Matt has an idea?"

Matt smirked a little, "Not really, but rest assured she'll remember what you say for the rest of her life, so you'd better make it good. Something about how you realised she was the one, yanno?" he clutched at his heart in a parody of some shojo heroine. "One true love, and all that, something personal to her."

Mello rolled his eyes, "I still say you could say anything and that woman would buy it."

L frowned a little, "Mello will be nice, and attempt to be helpful… and Matt's suggestion would be a good one, had I any idea why I love Misa."

Near's maroon eyes raised from the pile of lego he was playing with for a moment. "L should not marry someone he doesn't love."

L shook his head hurridly, "No, I do love her, but… it is not something easy to put into words, and I'm not sure what exactly it is about her I love."

"She's got a nice ass." Matt suggested, before Mello smacked him around the head.

L groaned and lifted one hand to his eyes. "_Please_. L does not want anything to happen that might make Misa regret marrying me, chances are 99.9% certain that if L cannot say anything at the alter Misa will walk out right there and then."

Mello rolled his eyes, "Okay, okay, how about… 'Misa, I knew from the moment we met that we would be together forever'?"

L thought for a moment, then shook his head, "Misa-chan would never believe that, not since when we met she was a prime suspect." He bit his thumb. "…I really don't understand how we ended up together…Misa could do so much better."

"Well you always had posters of her in your room!" Matt called from under the pillow Mello had thrown at him. "I remember you stared at 'em like she was really there."

"You shut up, you're not allowed an opinion." Mello snapped, leaning on the pillow over Matt's head. "Come on L, you're supposed to be a genius, you gotta be able to come up with something."

Near sighed from his spot on the floor, "Mello misunderstands precisely what L is a genius at. Also, I believe Matt is signalling that he can't breathe."

L sigh and shook his head, rising from his chair and leaving the room while the three argued. So much for thinking of them as adults, they really were still just children. In the other room he stared out the window. He could almost see the nearby church where he would be married tomorrow.

After a moment he felt a presence behind him.

"Watari-san." He said calmly.

Watari nodded; a fatherly smile on his face. "You seem to be having an awful lot of trouble for someone with so many ideas."

L raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate."

"In that room you stated several things, one: that you love Misa too much to possibly put into words, two: that you don't want to make her regret marrying you, and three, that you sincerely believe you are lucky Misa loves you." The old butler smirked a little. "Just say that to her."

L blinked. "Is that enough?"

"L, that's _love._" Watari replied, laughing and messing his hair.


	15. Chocolate

#15 Chocolate

God _damn_ stupid super-model-looking best friends and their addictions. And Damn stores for not opening at six am just to sell him candy and cigs. And damn Mello again for telling him to quit smoking, meaning he was having to stuff his mouth with bubble gum every five minutes just to get his mind off the drug.

Matt growled and threw another piece of gum into his mouth as he patted his pockets for the car keys, chewing frantically on the pink substance. The bag of chocolate bars rested on the passenger seat. Stupid Mello and his insistence that he only eat the most expensive brands, Matt was going broke paying for Mello's habit.

He gave a growl as he glanced out the window and realised that he'd left his stupid keys in the stupid car door.

It would have to be raining like a bloody _hurricane_ was coming, wouldn't it? It couldn't have been a clear evening. How did Mello even run out of chocolate at this hour? When did the so-called genius _sleep_?!

Matt winced as he opened the car door again. He wasn't big on the outdoors anyway and especially not in this weather. Mello owed him big-time for this, minimum five hours alone with his consoles.

Muttering curses under his breath be pulled the door closed again and leant back in the seat, jamming the keys into the ignition if only so he could turn the heat on.

He stayed there for a few minutes, watching the rainwater race down the windows. He blew a few pink bubbles and swore a few more times that he was never going to do this for Mello again. And when he got home he was going to finally grow a pair and tell Mello he had to start paying rent for using Matt's place as a secret base.

And he was going to _keep_ smoking if he liked it. They were his lungs, right? His tar-ridden lungs that made it hard to breathe in cold weather sometimes.

And so what if Mello screamed and raved and stormed out? Matt could do better than being his errand boy; he could be head of some computer company if he felt like putting the effort in.

Besides, it wasn't like he needed Mello.

It wasn't…

Matt sighed and rolled down the window, spitting the gum to the ground before ducking back inside the relative warmth of his car. Even he didn't believe all that crap.

He'd get home, and he'd dutifully hand over the chocolate, then get back to whatever task Mello set him.

Because he knew the truth. He adored Mello, always had. Oh sure, he'd had girlfriends, but those relationships had all ended for the same reason, the girl wasn't…Mello.

And Matt needed Mello more than Mello needed him.

~*~*~

Stupid red-haired _dorks_ and their stupid agoraphobia… like that wasn't a cover-up for being lazy.

And stupid not-buying-enough-chocolate earlier. Matt should have known that twenty bars was barely enough for a day in Mello's case, Christ, they were supposed to be best friends.

Mello scowled and kicked the nearest piece of cheap furniture.

He deserved better than this _dump_. He practically ran the goddamn Mafia and now he was living in this rats nest, leeching off his best friend because all the money was gone.

And Near was _winning, _the stupid little sheep cripple. He was winning and Mello wasn't totally sure how to beat him.

And this apartment _still_ smelt of Matt. Mello hated that. He growled and punched the wall, ignoring how bad it hurt. Stupid smell of nicotine and that store-brand shampoo. Oh, and the expensive aftershave. Mello said Matt could have it, given that the huge scar across half his face had pretty much destroyed the need for shaving.

Stupid Matt wasn't grateful enough for anything Mello did. He was cooking all their meals, wasn't he? Granted they were mostly simple, but it was better than the microwave paste Matt had been eating for the last however many years.

And he'd cleaned the place up, _and_ got Matt to quit smoking. Those were things to be thankful for and all Matt did was complain.

He should just leave, Mello thought. He should grab his leather coat and just storm out into the rain. He got in with the Mafia in America; he could do it here in Japan, right? Right.

He certainly didn't need Matt.

He reached for his coat and glanced out the window at the raging storm.

Matt was out in that. And he really hated the rain. Mello remembered once listening in on one of the check-ups and overhearing that Matt had odd sensory patterns, so that loud noises and certain 'feelings' like dampness were more uncomfortable for him. That was what the goggles were about, wasn't it? Sensory deprivation to help him concentrate.

Mello sighed and hung his coat back up, going to the microscopic kitchen and flicking the kettle on. Matt would need a warm drink when he got back in, and…

And Mello knew that he _did_ need Matt. He needed Matt more than he'd ever needed anyone. He wasn't sure when or how he'd started to fall in love with the geek, but he had.

Oh, there'd been other _boy_friends; Mello had made his peace with those years ago. But he hadn't been able to trust or rely on them to the extent that he could Matt.

Not that he could ever tell him how he felt. He was pretty sure Matt was straight. Besides, the gamer always seemed annoyed with him these days.

He heard the door open.

"Mello! I brought your stupid chocolate!"

Mello sighed and carried the coffee cup out to him. "Thanks." He mumbled, taking the bag from Matt's hand and going back to the computers.

Matt paused before he went to his own room, glancing back at the figure in black hunched over three laptops, brow creased with thought.

"Um… make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay Mello?" he mumbled.

It felt like the only thing he could say.


	16. Mind

#16 Mind

There is a fundamental difference between being clever, and being a natural genius. Clever people can be on the same level, but they have to work harder at it, with genius, it all comes so easily they might not even realise their own remarkable abilities.

L was rapidly discovering the difference between these two types of intelligence. Since becoming a parent he was finding out a lot about how minds worked.

His first-born, for example, could not be called a genius by any stretch of the imagination. He was blonde with big black eyes, his mother's dainty smile and as Watari put it 'Cute as a bunny-shaped button', but his intelligence levels were entirely unremarkable.

L didn't want to be, but he was somewhat disappointed by this. Oh, he adored his son, but he had hoped for a child with whom he could hold a conversation. Jay only ever wanted to babble about his favourite cartoon characters or play boisterous outdoor games that L just wasn't very good at.

That left him here, watching Misa raise their son almost single-handed, because L wasn't sure how to relate to the little blonde boy.

He liked to watch her putting their son to bed. Like a scientist making field notes he'd observe her telling the toddler fairy tales or making up stories of her own, kissing his forehead and tucking him in with a tenderness L could just barely recall his own mother giving.

Misa walked slowly to the doorway, closing their son's bedroom after her, and smiled to L.

"He's so cute." She whispered. "Don't you just love him, L? Every time I see that little guy I just want to hug him."

L nodded, chewing on his thumbnail anxiously. "L loves Jay-kun very much."

The model's eyes fluttered a little with concern. How quickly she'd learned what signs meant her husband was worried about something. "L, what's the matter?"

L shook his head. "I am not… precisely certain myself. It… seems like a horrible thing for a parent to think about their own child."

Misa's pretty face instantly frowned; she was a defensive mother of her precious little son. "What is?"

L shook his head, "See? Misa is already angry with me."

She paused, and sighed, closing her eyes and taking a breath or two to calm herself. She knew L, he never meant to say things that might hurt you, they just came out that way sometimes. She knew deep down he'd never want her or their baby to be unhappy.

"L wishes Jay was more intelligent… no, that is not fair… I wish I were not so intelligent." L turned away from his wife's eyes, sensing anger that he didn't wish to face. He reached and slid one hand through the thick black mess he called hair. "Misa-chan… All my life, it's been very easy for me to absorb knowledge. It's been easy to get by on brains alone… but…" that deep voice sighed. "Since I met you… since we had Jay… it's been so hard. I can quote any number of precise laws from any country you care to name, but…"

Misa saw his eyes rest for a moment on Jay's bedroom door. It had stickers with stars and glow-in-the-dark planets all over it; Jay was going through a phase of adoring space at the moment.

"All the knowledge in the world doesn't tell how to talk to one's son." L mumbled sadly. "…it should be easier…It would be easier if Jay were a genius… L understands genius children."

Misa shook her head and took L's hand, threading their fingers together and smiling at the feel of his wedding band pressing to her finger.

"Jay's not stupid, you know." She whispered. "A bit dopey maybe, but so am I… and you managed to get me to talk to you." She nuzzled his shoulder tenderly; breathing in the slight smell of icing sugar that hung around L in a thick fog.

L actually managed a smile. "Misa…"

She kept her eyes closed against his shoulder. "Just try toning down the clever a little bit… tell him about planets or something, he'd love that." She pecked his cheek once and smiled at the slight look of surprise on his face; same as the first time she'd kissed him. "Its hard being smart, isn't it?"


	17. Leaf

#17 Leaf

I often dream. I don't think the others dream, even though they use up their years sleeping.

I don't think dead things like us can really dream. I suppose rather than dreams they're more like… hopes with pictures.

Pictures I've stolen from the living. Everything I know, everything I am… it's all stolen or borrowed from watching souls walking through their lives.

I always dream the same thing.

I'm in a world of green. Of life.

Trees all around me, stretching to the sky and spreading across the roof of the world until they filter the sunlight into the soft green that always suggests life… little drops of water fall from above, the sun catches them and they glow like specks of molten gold as they fall.

Underneath my feet, it's a carpet of grass. Thick and lush and soft, springing back as I walk over it as though I hadn't even been there. Around the path of green there's bushes, sprouting berries and flowers, sweet smells flood the whole world and everything is without question, beautiful.

And then through the bushes, I spy her. Her long blonde hair tied up, and there are flowers in among those golden locks that I just want to touch…just once.

She turns, and sees me… and she doesn't scream. She smiles, and laughs. And playfully she runs into the undergrowth, her long cream gown catches on the branches of the trees, and she just laughs more.

I follow her, and I suddenly don't care how many of my stitches come undone, how the sand that is myself flutters between the gaps of my patchwork, because she is with me, and so long as she will allow me, I will follow her.

We burst through another shrub, scattering petal and berry and leaf.

Before us, there is a fountain. A fountain that nature has reclaimed from man, moss and vines have broken it, and though it no longer flows, the water is living, and glittering.

Lilly pads float on its surface, flowers blooming among them and spreading that same sweet scent through this place. There isn't a sound… only the breath of the wind through the trees and a soft, loving sound. The heartbeat of the world.

She smiles and points to my feet.

I look down and see bluebells and daises sprouting all around them.

And with sudden clarity I realise what she is telling me.

That this is my garden. This is my place and there's nothing here but her and me. There's no-one to laugh at us or tell me what I feel is wrong or stupid. Tell me I'm a creature born only to kill.

It's full of things that _I_ made live.

It's my garden.


	18. Destruction

#18 Destruction

It was a bloodbath.

Arms and legs, a few severed heads scattered across the floor of the room… Near stood wordlessly in the doorway, maroon eyes wide at the horror he had found, returning to his bedroom.

All his precious toys…

In pieces all over the floor of his room, their plastic or plush limbs resting in among the thick white carpet.

His heartbeat quickened and he raced to his bed, whimpering at the pain as vicious pieces of plastic jabbed at his bare feet. Hoping, praying that the invading beast had missed one, just _this_ one-

He pulled back the covers.

His plush panda was gone. His precious plush panda that L gave to him for the first birthday he had any memory of. The one toy he had to have with him because he couldn't sleep without it. It was _always_ in his bed…

"Missing something, sheepy?"

Near span around in the room, scowling at the boy in his doorway. Who else would have done something like this?

"Mello." He growled. "What did you do to Panda-chan?"

Mello threw back his head and laughed. His voice was like a shattering chandelier, beautiful and painful. "It had a name? Jeeze, how old are you? Three?"

Near's scowl did not recede. "What does Mello mean 'Had'? What has Mello done with Panda-chan?"

Mello smirked viciously. "Oh…nothing… nothing as bad as I did to these guys anyway." He kicked one of the dismembered figurines torso's across the soft carpet.

Near's eyes watered with rage, fists clenching, though he knew there would be no point in _fighting_ Mello, he was too strong.

"Where is Panda-chan." He repeated darkly.

Mello combed one hand through his soft blonde locks, teeth flashing like pearls. "Are you _crying_? Over a stupid little toy?" he sneered, "What would L say if he could see number one crying over a damn plushie?"

Near could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "_WHERE IS PANDA-CHAN!_"

Mello started to laugh again.

Near raced across the room, ignoring those same pieces of plastic jamming into his feet, and tackled Mello to the hallway floor.

He was lucky; he had the element of surprise. Mello caught a bump on the head as he landed on the wooden floor. He was full of angry adrenaline.

And Roger was only around the corner, so when Mello let out a scream of rage and started to fight back, he only landed two punches before the boys were yanked apart.

~*~*~

Near crouched on the bed of the medical room, shaking and clutching his knees.

He couldn't sleep. Panda-chan was still MIA. Mello had been sentenced to a week without chocolate and no break-times, plus his pocket money was suspended until Near's toy collection had been replaced, but that was very little comfort.

There was a little tap at the door. Near looked up weakly, and frowned. It was Mello's henchman, Matt. Doubtless sent to rub it in some more.

"How're you feeling?" He hissed.

Near shrugged.

Matt smiled a little, but not cruelly like Mello. "Sorry about what he did." He shuffled uncomfortably in the doorway.

"Was there something Matt wanted?" Near asked, softly. He didn't really dare believe that Matt was here as a mutual friend, though he knew that the red-haired boy was almost incapable of violence, and mostly hung around Mello for protection from other kids who would destroy him.

Matt shook his head, red hair flopping in his eyes, reminding Near of the ears on a puppy. "No, but… I managed to grab something before Mello ripped it to bits."

Near's eyes widened as slowly Matt produced from behind his back his most precious possession.

And though Near hated contact, that day he ran across the room and hugged Matt.


	19. Hate

#19 Hate

Light used to be so certain of the things he hated.

The way the law could be ignored. Ineffective.

The way innocent people were made to suffer.

That no-one wanted to do anything about it.

And L.

God damn L.

And now the final humiliation, to be a suspect of mass murder and chained to the world's three greatest detectives, embodied in one man.

Light sighed to himself as he watched the hands on the clock tick around slowly. Preparing himself mentally for another night with L.

They slept in the same bed now, originally it had been two singles, but they rapidly discovered that ended up with one or the other of them on the floor in the night, so a double it was.

Matter of fact, the only time Light found himself happily free of the repellent man was during those blessed few minutes when the two of them took their turns in the shower, and even then, those damn cameras kept their eternal stares upon him.

It caused him some curiosity that L would be so modest about bathing as to want to do it separately. Of course Light was aware that Europe (he was fairly sure that was where L was at least _raised_, if not born) had differing attitudes to communal bathing, but it wasn't as though L had gone out of his way to appear normal so far.

He sighed as he left the shower room, feeling L clip the handcuff back around his wrist instantly; the other silvery bracelet clipped neatly over the door handle of the bathroom as L scurried inside.

Light gave a deep sigh, stretching his limbs and rubbing the towel around his neck through his hair, contemplating, as he often did in these quite moments, what exactly he did _know_ about the mysterious L.

Well, what he suspected, anyway.

He was from Europe originally, that must Light was prepared to take a guess at. Something in the way he pronounced the odd word now and then was enough for Light to be sure of that.

He wasn't just a hermit, the man was _shy_. Light was assuming that based on his reactions to bathing, having to share a bed.

As he ran through these few but significant facts, Light moved to sit on the floor and lean against the door he was chained to, he often did.

But tonight, something was different.

The lock hadn't been snapped into place. Light's wieght was all that was needed to push the bathroom door open with a soundless swing, sending Light sprawling to the white tiled floor, his head tipped backwards enough for him to stare directly up into the shocked and horrified face of L.

Of half-naked L, with wide, horrified black eyes.

And it occurred to Light that L, as a man, most certainly should not have breasts.

There was a girlish scream, and Light realised it was coming from L with some surprise.

And then the next thing he knew Watari had burst in, pulling Light from the bathroom and unceremoniously chaining the boy to the bed-post.

In the hours of silence that followed, Light's mind worked.

L was a _girl._

He hadn't seen that coming. L was the least-feminine woman Light had ever met.

He recalled the bandages he had spied on the sink before being removed from the bathroom and frowned. She strapped her chest.

Why would L wish to pretend to be a man? And a pretty damn repulsive one at that?

Surely she ought to be proud, not many women could get to her level and stay there. Crime investigation was a male-dominated profession. It didn't make sense for the logical man – woman to behave like that.

The door opened slowly. There she was with her eyes cast down, fully dressed in the same baggy shirt (that made a lot more sense now) and plain jeans.

"Light-kun will please not tell anyone."

That _voice_… he could feel the traces of the male voice in there, but this was different, unforced, soft and tremulous. His mind tried to tell him there was no way that voice was coming from L of all people, but Light ignored it in the face if reality.

"I won't tell anyone providing that you explain why you're pretending to be a man, L." He replied, eyes not leaving her lowered face. She looked so ashamed.

"…I pretend to be male for a very simple reason, Light-kun." That soft voice replied. "L hates being a female."

Light very nearly laughed, it was just such a bizarre situation to be in. "You hate it? Why?"

She lifted her head slowly, and Light was confronted with that same face he saw every moment of the day… but… something about it was different, it had to be. He caught himself thinking that really, she wasn't _that_ bad to look at, she might even be pretty, with a little effort.

She was frowning, but her large black eyes were sad.

"L has to be a man." She began, voice quivering. "Light-kun doesn't realise how difficult it is to gain any respect as a girl. How difficult it is for a girl to be safe in the world L chooses to live in. A girl would be seen as vulnerable, an easy target. Did Light-kun not notice that every person on the task force is male? I doubt that they would ever listen to a little girl's theories on Kira." Her knees bent and she lowered herself into her usual crouch, chewing on her thumbnail hard. "So L had to become a man… because no-one would listen to me if I was a girl." Her eyes slid closed. "And now neither will Light-kun."

Light frowned. "L, how dare you make that assumption about me? I really couldn't care less if you happen to be female or not. You've already proven yourself to be as capable as any man; I don't see why you keep pretending."  
Those big, black eyes opened again, and Light saw how scared and uncertain she was behind them. Looking for the trick, the wickedness in his eyes that might tell her he was trying to humiliate her.

Light moved across the floor as far as the handcuff chain would allow, kneeling an arm's length away from L. He reached and took her shoulders, staring hard into her eyes.

"L is L. You're still the world's greatest detective." he spoke calmly. "Aren't you tired of pretending?"

The next day, L appeared in the investigation room with her chest unbound, her voice unaltered, and in a long white tee-shirt/dress, revealing legs that had even Light looking twice.

Light wasn't sure if he hated L anymore.


	20. Doorknob

#20 Doorknob

Mello scowled into the darkness as the soft sounds from across the tiny bedroom woke him.

He was going to _destroy_ this roommate, just like he did the last two. Maybe then Roger would get the message and let _this_ little genius have his own room.

After the last kid started sleeping during classes because Mello managed to make him too afraid of the dark to sleep at night he thought he might have his own room at last. But nooo, Roger had to keep pushing it and had stuck the newbie in with Mello. None of the old-timer kids would share with him now.

Mello listened to the sound of his roommate breathing and thought on what he knew about the kid.

Red hair, bright green eyes, a pair of thick glasses covering them, seemed to own nothing but striped shirts. Oh, he had one of those stupid virtual pets that bleeped and squeaked every five minutes.  
_  
Had_, because Mello had flushed the thing about two hours ago when it woke him up demanding food. If the newbie had seen Mello do it he hadn't stirred.

He was pretty sure the kid was awake now. His breathing was uneven, shuddering.

Mello grinned wickedly into the darkness of the room and hissed, "Are you asleep?"

A voice heavy with accent replied, "No."

Mello had to fight to suppress his urge to laugh, this one was going to be easy to break, half the work was already done, something was scaring this kid already, probably the dark.

"Why not?" Mello whispered back. "You're not _scared_ are you?" he purred, intending on following that question with a vile hiss of 'You should be'.

But his roommate squeaked out, "Yes. I keep thinking my papa's going to come get me."

That threw Mello. This was an orphanage; the kids here had no parents, right?

The child in the bed across from his continued, "I know that nice old man said he's in jail and he can't get me anymore but he doesn't know what my papa can do when he's angry…"

Mello was intrigued now. Without thinking he questioned, "What can he do?"

For a moment all was quiet in the room.

"Last time he broke my arm… it went all the way around. And he cut my head. I had sixteen stitches. Oh, and once he knocked out two of my teeth and I threw up blood for a week. And one time he…"

The casual manner the child across from him used to describe one horrific injury after another made Mello shudder. It was as though this kid assumed every home was like that.

Eventually the descriptions of injuries stopped, and the soft voice with heavy accent continued, "I keep thinking he's just down the hall… coming closer, taking it really slow so no-one wakes up…and he'll grab me and shake me and this time he won't stop."

And with that suggestion Mello's active little brain conjured up his own monster sneaking down the hall, a human monster with big hands ready for strangling little boys in their beds.

He swallowed. "Shut up, you're being stupid, there's nothing out there-"

They both heard the creak on the floorboards outside their bedroom door.

And Mello bolted across the little bedroom like a streak of blonde lightning, diving beneath the covers of the newbie's bed and clinging to the slightly younger boy.

The two of them watched in terrified, rapt silence as the doorknob turned slowly.

"Mello! What is the meaning of this?!"

It was Roger. And in one hand was a plastic bag containing that irritating, bleeping pet. Stupid thing was still making clicking noises and flickering.

"Matt, if you like, you can have another room, and Mello, this is the last straw, I've had enough of this misbehaviour, genius or not, you're out of Wammy's house-"

Before Mello could shriek his protests, Matt lifted his head, "No!" he smiled innocently. "We both flushed it… we thought it'd be funny, but it was mostly my idea, sorry Mr. Roger."

Like magic the old man ceased his raving. He muttered something about hating children and assigned them both to cleaning duty the next morning, but that was all.

As soon as the door clicked shut and the doorknob turned again, the two friends started to laugh.


	21. Inside

#21 Inside

Why would anyone ever want to go outside?

Nothing out there but smoke and weather and all those bright colours that made Matt dizzy when he took his goggles off.

Far better to stay inside.

Even if that meant not getting to play with Mello and the other boys during the long summer months when their entire lives revolved around soccer and climbing the trees around Wammy's house.

Even if it meant that the mahogany tan his homeland of Spain had gifted him faded out into nothing.

Even if that meant he developed some pretty bad allergies to pollen, simply because his system wasn't used to dealing with it.

Who needed the outdoors?

"Matt!"

The striped boy barely looked up from his games system. "Mm?"

Mello scowled, hands clutching the soccer ball, twitching as though he might throw it right at the red-head. If he didn't get the attention he craved, it was entirely likely he would. "Are you coming out to play or staying in here like a looser, _again?_"

Matt sighed and lifted his head from the game, pushing his goggles onto his forehead with some reluctance, pupils dilating at the sudden change in light. "Um…" his emerald eyes flickered away from the attractive blonde. Unwilling as ever to say 'no' to his best and only friend at the orphanage, but too afraid to go out into a world that was just _too_ much for his over-sensitive system to cope with.

Mello actually growled, and Matt could have sworn he saw the older boy's hair bristle like a lion's mane. "What, you'd rather sit in here on your own with your stupid games? No damn wonder you don't have any friends."

And with that the blonde had stormed off outside, not even waiting to see the impact of his words. He didn't need to, being Matt's best friend meant he knew precisely what to say to hurt the boy.

Matt bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to stop it trembling even as he tasted coppery blood, and one hand leapt to scrub at his eyes, feigning itchiness when in fact he was trying to stop the tears before they came.

It wasn't that he wanted to make Mello angry… and he'd tried before to explain the way things outside overwhelmed his senses, but Mello barely ever listened, and Matt didn't really know enough about the condition to explain it.

Silent, he moved to the window ledge, wincing at the bright light that momentarily blinded him. As the whiteness faded from his vision he forced himself to focus on the shapes that were racing across the grass.

It took him a few moments to latch on to Mello. Mello with his gorgeous golden hair and bright blue eyes, like an angel…

Matt winced and pulled his goggles back down over his eyes, frowning when the orange shields changed everything in front of his eyes. All of a sudden Mello was a figure covered demonic orange-ish red. And even like that, all the other kids were paying attention only to him.

Mello was right, it was no wonder he had no friends. He wasn't like Mello, he wasn't bright and beautiful, able to charm the birds out of the trees with a single smile.

With a soft whimper, the red-haired boy turned away from the window, realising there and then that there would never be a place for him in Mello's world of sunlight.

He was better off staying in the dark, lonely inside.


	22. Sand

#22 Sand

She felt like she ought to be… sad.

Misa wasn't entirely sure why, kneeling there in one of the data-bank storage rooms of L's building…

What _was_ L's building, It wasn't now. The dead can't exactly claim ownership of anything.

Why did she have to be sad again?

Come to that, why was there a pool of sand in the middle of the floor?

Well, maybe it was sand. It was a little too shiny for sand, and it smelt of copper. Maybe it was rust. Maybe one of the computers was going wrong and falling to bits.

She dipped one finger into the strange substance and began to draw shapes.

So, L was dead. Light-kun had told her that he was going to take over, and they would move in together in this building.

Maybe she was supposed to be sad that L had died?

No, that couldn't be it. She really didn't like him that much, and while she was sorry he was gone, it was hardly a reason to cry.

Besides, his death meant that Kira could continue his good work through the world, and no-one could stop him now.

So why was her heart hurting?

Why did she feel all sore and empty inside?

And why were tears racing from the corners of her eyes and splashing into the glittery substance, sending twinkles fluttering through the air?

It didn't make any sense why the mere sight of this pile of weird ashes had made her fall to her knees and cry softly, away from the police who were even now frantically cleaning the main office.

None of them had told her anything about what happened, only that Kira had got L and Watari.

But that made no sense, because wasn't Light Kira?

And he didn't have a…

She shook her head. It was all so confusing. Better she just keep smiling and doing what Light said, if she did that, Light would love her and everything would be all right.

Slowly she rose from the ground, traces of the stuff that wasn't sand or rust stuck to her skirt and stockings. She brushed it off as best she could with her hands and turned to the door.

Misa

She froze.

Something, maybe a voice, on the edge of hearing…

_Don't…Evil…Light.  
_  
And then it was gone. Fallen from hearing like grains of sand between fingers.


	23. Cross

#23 Cross

(A/N: Requested by Eflamma. I took 'Cross' as meaning four different perspectives)

Kira?

He's the alter-ego of the man I love. He's the other half of Light-kun and one of the reasons why I love Light so much.

Kira's my saviour; he killed the man who destroyed my family. And for that I owe him everything. My body is not mine, it is Kira's to use, a vessel for the eyes he needs.

I will be Kira eyes forever, because then I know he needs me more than anyone else. Who else would give up half their life span for him, twice?

Well, a lot of people, I suppose. I do love him though. I love him more than anyone else in the whole world. I look at him and its all I can do to stop myself hugging him tight and never letting go.

That's who Kira is.

The man I love.

~*~*~

You're asking me about Kira?

…He's evil. Pure evil.

I ask you, what good can killing people do?

Oh yes, I don't deny there are evil people in the world. Trust me, I know that better than most.

My family was killed when I was five years old. I had to watch our house burn with them still inside, because of an evil man.

But when I heard Kira had got him, I was enraged.

There's no suffering in Death. No time to think about what has been done and repent. I wanted that man to live… to suffer. To have to look into my eyes and explain why, _why_ did he do that to a child?

Maybe it's twisted of me, but I would prefer the wicked to suffer here on earth, than be sent on to another realm where I can't be certain of how they're treated.

Kira is evil, because he is a murderer. And when I catch him, I am going to place him in a cell wallpapered with the faces of everyone he's ever killed. And I will come to see him every day and question, 'Why… _why_ did you kill all of them?'

That's who Kira is.

A Murderer.

~*~*~

Oh, Kira?

I don't know… are you sure you wouldn't rather ask Aizawa or the Chief?

No, you want me?

Ok… well…

I don't know exactly. Yeah, I know I'm a cop and it's my job to catch the bad guys. It's just… I'm not sure who the bad guys are in this case.

See, most criminals, once they get out of jail, go straight back to crime. Ok, maybe there's a few who go off and lead good lives, and more luck to them, but the majority just es-ca-late. (Aizawa taught me that word; it's good, right?)

So maybe Kira's way of killing them is a good way. I mean, up until a few years ago nearly all the States in America had a death penalty, right? So how's it different?

On the other hand, I want to believe that murder is murder, no matter what the reason.

Then again, what about women who kill their abusive husbands? What would Kira say about them?

Or someone who manages to shoot a man holding his family hostage, is that murder?

Aizawa would just say 'That's justifiable homicide, you know that, Matsuda.' Then look at me like I'm an idiot.

Kira's… confusing.

~*~*~

Haha, Kira?

Kira is god. Kira is Justice. Kira is the purifying power that will rid the streets of the human scum and make it safe for people to walk around with their heads held high again.

Oh, and he's me. I am Kira.

Oh, I know, a lot of people in public come out with the sweet little 'it's just not right to kill people' argument, but who are they trying to kid? In private, everyone thinks the same thing.

Criminals deserve to die.

Yes… they all deserve to burn… that is the righteous judgement of a god. The good will live and the wicked will die.

That, my curious friend, is what Kira is.

Kira is me.

Kira… is Justice.


	24. Desperation

#24 Desperation

The gun fires, his wrist shatters like glass, his watch breaks into thousands of pieces, and his time runs out.

The god falls, in a pool of blood, screaming.

His unwitting allies watch, stunned. All but his once faithful St. peter, Matsuda. The gun shaking in his hands and tears racing down his cheeks as he realises the full betrayal of it.

The god, struggling now, gasping…

His eyes wild, hair soaked with his own blood, he turns, and begins to crawl.

On some level, Near smiles, thinking that he looks like a maggot.

The 'hand of Kira' rants and raves, driven mad by the sight of his god.

Kira's goddess is dead, killed by one of her own.

And his queen…

He screams for her.

She is no longer his.

And finally, his last hope, he turns and cries for aid from the creature to which he owes what he has become.

He begs.

He begs like the insect he has become.

And the creature nods.

Around him the good cry out in horror.

"Kill them… write it down, Ryuk!"

Ryuk laughs. "All right, Light… I'll write it down."

One last time for this tale, the paper skitters across the paper. One more name is scribed into the paper of death.

He turns the paper.

And the god screams.

Any more words are lost. He screams incoherently once more for the women who have loved him, the man who has worshipped him. For anyone.

And then finally, he screams…

"I don't want to die!!!"

and with that… he does.


	25. Goodbye

#25 Goodbye

In a fit of rage he stormed down the corridors. Around him the other children scattered like mad mice, trying to find somewhere to hide. Only an idiot would get in the way of Mello in this mood.

He wasn't just angry, he was so full of pure, white hatred that tears were leaking from his eyes. Not in grief for his idol, there would be time to cry for him later.

Right now he was angry. He slammed open the door of his bedroom and wrenched the nearest backpack from his wardrobe door, packing with the blindness of any child who is about to 'run away from home' for the first time. The expectation being that he wouldn't get further than down the road.

Then he stopped. He closed his eyes and breathed hard for a few moments, feeling the blood pound in his head behind his eyeballs until a remarkable coolness swept over him.

Concentrate, he thought, you're _really_ leaving. Do this sensibly.

And he started to re-pack.

And then the nervous shaking started.

Because _goddammnit_, this was really happening. It was time to sink or swim and he hadn't had to swim on his own for years.

There'd been someone there all this time to help him, and now he was going to be all on his own, nothing but his wits and what he could carry…

He pulled everything from his bag and re-packed again, this time with cold logic. Did he really need that tiny chocolate-coloured teddy bear? No. How about that one shirt that was too small but was still so comfy? Extra baggage.

"Hey Mells, what'd the old fart want-"

He can't bear to see the look in those green eyes, behind shields of yellow plastic. So he doesn't turn around.

"Mello, what're you doing?"

He doesn't want to say it, because that'll make it real. But Matt wants to know.

"…L is dead. He hadn't picked either of us. I won't work with Near."

A hand on his shoulder. Comfort.

"Mello… oh jeesus…"

Any other time he would scold him for using the saviour's name in vain. Right at this moment he's having trouble believing there's any all-powerful being who cares.

"Matt… I'm leaving. I'm going to prove I can do this on my own."

The pause breaks Mello's heart.

"No."

He doesn't answer, he knows there's no point.

"Mello, you…"

"I'm going, Matt." He whispered. He turns and hugs his best friend, not wanting to see his face. "I'm sorry… but I have to."

He feels Matt shudder.

"Mello… promise to come back."

He shudders and nuzzles his face into that mop of red hair. "Matt, I can't… If I come back here… I'll be admitting that he's better. I won't do that. I'm going out of those gates and I'm never coming back."

He feels his best friend, his boyfriend, his one true love, start to cry onto his shoulder.

"Matt… I promise… when I'm settled, I'll send for you."

And that instantly dries the tears, because his friend knows that he'd never lie about that. Sniffling, he pulls back and absently tries to rub his eyes through his goggles.

Mello almost laughs at the adorable gesture, and lifts the boy's goggles onto his head. He doesn't though. This isn't a time to laugh.

"Ok… I guess this is goodb-"

He places his hand over Matt's mouth. "Don't say that."

"Mph?"

"Don't you _dare_ say the 'G' word. We're going to see each other again one day."

"But-"

"Don't say it." He whispers, and kisses Matt.

He hopes it's not for the last time.


	26. Over

#26 Over

I know precisely what I hold in my hand. The power of death a reaper's scythe, so to speak.

And I realise perfectly well that the men I'm now handing it over to will doubtless cause all kinds of chaos with the power. Throw off our investigation, maybe even put it back years. Hell, possibly even kill myself and the other members of the team.

Wouldn't be such a loss for me, I suppose. Of course I don't want to die, but of all of us, I'm the one who should risk his life. Matsuda, Ide and Mogi are still young, Aizawa has two children who still need him.

My Son is more than capable of taking care of himself. I'm so proud of the man he's become.

And Sayu… well she's always been a very independent little girl, even when she was a toddler, she never sat around clinging to Sachiko or me. She only ever had eyes for her big brother.

It's so dark down here.

I can't believe this awful situation is happening.

Handing over the power to kill to evil men, in exchange for my daughter.

Finally a light…

Oh no…

There's Sayu… there's my little girl. Stuck in some revolving-door like device, tears running down her cheeks. She spots me and I see her mouth open in a cry. She's calling for me. For her daddy.

Sayu… I'm so sorry.

Suddenly this exchange can't come quick enough.

Suddenly it doesn't matter that she was such an independent little girl, because she's scared and alone and all she wants right now is her father.

I almost throw the notebook to them.

I don't watch when they test it. I keep my eyes on Sayu.

The door turns slowly. She almost falls through to me, her knees getting muddy and dusty from the living earth this place is tunnelled into.

I help her to her feet and lead her back to the daylight, whispering vague reassurances to her that from now on, things will be different.

I'll spend more time at home with my wife and daughter.

I'll try and step back from these risky things, because they do still need me.

I'll…

I'll take a long, hard look at Light. Because while I'm proud, sometimes, I look at him and… I wonder.

Sayu keeps crying quietly.

All I can do is lie and tell her it's all over.


	27. Desert

#27 Desert

All of a life, in a grain of sand.

Slowly and steadily he makes he way through the realm of the reapers. On the rare occasion he sees one of them, they jeer and laugh and question what is he doing here?

More often, though, they say nothing.

His task is simple. His task is selfish.

For before he may be allowed into the kingdom where honey and milk flow like water, where the sun does not set and the wicked are not welcome… he has to absolve himself of his sins.

With one good deed he must change the fate of two unfairly judged. More than one innocent soul must be spared.

He stares at the sand around his feet. The sun beats down into his black hair and hurts his scalp.

He knows that as he is dead he cannot feel pain nor thirst, but his body remembers those feelings and tells him they're happening anyway.

The sand is… odd.

He moves into his signature crouch, scoops up a handful. He presses some of the grains between two fingers and notices the soft residue it leaves.

He has never seen sand like this before. It smells faintly of copper, and seems to sparkle in an odd way. Not just light reflecting from sediment, but with a glitter all its own.

"It is the sand of time, boy."

He turns, falling down as he spins hurriedly, throwing up more of the strange dust.

Before him is darkness.

A creature so cursed and wicked that the sunlight dares not shine on him, and he walks in a perpetual night. With keen eyes, one might look into the darkness, but never see it's face, only unpleasant suggestions of what is waiting if you dare come closer to the dark.

"Sand of time?" he whispers.

The creature laughs. "It is the sand that goes into the hourglasses that count down a human's life span. Imagine that, boy. All this desert… it is life and death."

He tries not to think about that. It might drive him mad. He focuses on what he came here to do. Find the two unfairly judged.

He tells the creature as much. It appears to smile.

"Ah yes, boy. I know very well where they are. And you are fortunate they are not among this desert of time."

He sighs, relieved that he does not have to seek through each grain of sand. "Where are they?"

The creature laughs in it's dark nest. "First, a story, to make you better understand what you are seeking." It paused. "The creatures in the realm of the dead, they cannot themselves die… only their existence may change. When a creature of this world loves one of yours… and kills to protect them…"

The boy nods. "I know, they…" he frowns, remembering that the creatures here cannot die.

"They become sand of time." The creature hisses. "Many pass on when they run out of years and are too old and decrepit to gather more. But the ones who die for love… they are special indeed. They are placed in the one they died for's hourglass."

The fallen angel understands. He nods slowly. "Where is Misa Amane's hourglass?"

The Reaper King shuffles for a moment in his blackness, then slowly, a hand of polished bone seeps out of the darkness, and offers an hourglass.

The angel blinks. "It's close to emptying."

"Her life is forfeit, as is her soul." The king whispers, his voice like a knife. "I will keep her soul when she passes, and in return, you will have the two who deserve heaven."

He blinks. How is he supposed to make a choice such as this? Yes, the two reapers deserve their places in the land of peace, but Misa, she is not at heart a wicked girl. Because of one stupid mistake she is doomed to this land of sand and rust?

"You can't do it, can you?" the thing in the darkness mocks. "You can't give up her soul for theirs. Haha, you humans are so predictable."

He swallows. "Her soul is not mine to give… King, I will make you another deal."

The reaper leans forward in its pool of darkness. "A deal?"

The fallen angel nods slowly. "Let all three of them pass through the gates to heaven. And in return, take me." He lowers his head. His reasoning is sound, as it always is. He was a wicked man in life and truthfully does not deserve to enter the heavenly fold. But Jealous and Rem, they died for love, whom could call that wicked? And Misa… misguided, but not evil, never evil.

The king begins to laugh hard, "Deal." He hisses, throwing the hourglass into the air. It shatters at the peak of it's flight and three shimmering white lights sweep through the air like feathers in the breeze, disappearing to a place where only the good may go.

The Shinigami king howls in laughter and reaches to drag the boy into his black domain. He does not resist.

And then the sun shines. It shines brighter than it ever has in this place before. The darkness around the king begins to melt away like ice, and the fallen angel shields his eyes from the unknown horror within.

He listens intently to what follows.

A voice, warm and kind, flickering between genders and ages speaks first.

"Let him go."

The king hisses back. "You heard him, he made a deal for the souls of the other three. The girl and the two reapers you so desired."

"I did hear. And because he chose to give up his own place for them, he has absolved himself of any wickedness in life."

The king shrieks in rage. "A trick?! Damn you! It was a trick!"

"No trick, your highness, he offered the only thing he had that was his to give. He is not of your world now. Do not fret or hate, there will always be others."

The boy feels a warm energy embrace him, when he opens his eyes he is in a world of soft whiteness. He feels a strange weight on his back and peers over his shoulder.

Feathery wings are sprouting from his shoulder blades, fluttering gently as he tests their control. He looks above his head to confirm what he cannot believe. A circlet of gold hovers above him.

His actions were unselfish, and his is absolved.

That warm and loving voice speaks, but once more to him.

"Come, L Lawliet."

And he does.


	28. Illusion

#28 Illusion

Illusion is often misunderstood. Because the fine art of creating such a thing is to make people believe despite all rational thought that the impossible is happening.

And it's surprising how little the push towards believing the unbelievable has to be.

After all… a boy brought the world to its knees, believing he was a god… with only the power to kill. That was all. He didn't have to perform any other great feats or miracles. Just kill.

A criminal made the world believe he was their worlds greatest detective, simply by having a name plaque in front of him that happened to have the letter within it.

Another man made the world believe that there were three brilliant detectives in the world vying to be the very best. In reality, he was all of them, and he just happened to be good at disguising his voice in three different ways.

A young woman made the world believe she was a young and fatuous bimbo, floating through life enjoying her own beauty and the rewards it brought her. She was a merciless murderer.

An old house in Winchester managed to appear to be a home for poor lonely orphans. It was more of a grooming area for intelligent minds to flourish into their full genius.

The brightest child in the house made himself look harmless and innocent simply by occasionally playing with children's toys.

The second most intelligent mind there… he his himself as the third. He wanted nothing to do with being L. And in any case, he knew it meant more to his friend to be the second.

A shinigami, a reaper, a creature of death named Ryuk, he made one innocent and bright boy seriously believe that a cursed object made only to bring chaos and despair… could be a tool of a good and merciful god.


	29. Hope

#29 Hope

"How does Light-kun think Kira justifies himself?"  
"What?"

"How does Kira justify his actions to himself?"

"Why do you assume he needs to?"

"Because I know how the human brain works. Even the purest of sociopath will justify his actions, even with a seemingly mindless pattern of thought. And I do not believe Kira is insane… not yet, anyway. He will be justifying his actions."

"Well I'd guess his reasoning is that he kills only the evil."

"What about the FBI agents? He killed them, doubtless, and yet they were good men and women. Fighting the same fight, so to speak."

"…I suppose his god complex… causes him to reason that… why are you even thinking about this Ryuzaki?"

"I am considering how best to get inside his mind, Light-kun. Please continue."

"Ryuzaki, it doesn't matter what I say because no matter what I say you're going to turn it into an argument for me being Kira."

"Not so, Light-kun. This is an intellectual chat. I do not often get to converse with someone who is on the same level as me."

"All right… I suppose… the way he justifies what he does… is by saying that… he is giving hope to the good people of the world."

"...I see, hope."

"…Yes?"

"That implies that Kira thinks some people are beyond the reach of hope. That no-one deserves a second chance."

"Don't you think that? Statistics show that most criminals when released repeat their crimes, they're given a second chance and they ruin it. I'd call that beyond hope."

"What about the small majority who do not?"

"…Does Light-kun know the story of Pandora's box?"

"Hm? When all the evils in the world were released from a container and infected the human race, yes. We did it at high school."

"When all the evil in the world was released, the one thing that remained was hope."

"…Yes, but some people hope for the evils to consume the world."

An audible smirk.

"But according to Kira's philosophy… most people hope for a better world. A better world would be one where no-one is beyond hope."


	30. Meat

#30 Meat

They laughed at me when I told them how Gelus died.

I almost laughed along with them.

Deridovely joked that Gelus wasn't a real shinigami anyway, he was made out of scraps on the floor. He was a weakling who couldn't even fly.

Daril hissed that the only 'gami's who paid attention to what humans did were idiots like Gelus and Ryuk.

And that perked my interest. Because I knew Ryuk, wherever he went, something bad happened. Whether he meant to or not, he brought death with him everywhere.

"Ryuk's interfering with the humans?" I questioned the bejewelled shinigami.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "He's got himself involved with some little closeted kid who doesn't know how to get rid of his frustration any other way than killin people. Ryuk says it's funny."

Deridovly smirked and swing his scythe, "What's funny about following a lump of meat with legs around?"

I laughed along with them again. Gelus was a fool, and Ryuk was a greater one, letting themselves get involved with the humans… the 'meat' as Deridovely called them. Because that's all they were…

Just pigs awaiting the inevitable slaughter.

That's all.

To see them as anything more would be stupid. They aren't like us, they don't last forever. They live out pointless existences that are so easily snuffed out.

And then I recalled the way Gelus had spoken of his blonde human.

How when he whispered to me in his croaked and cracked voice that he loved her, not for her beauty, but for how _good_ she was. How brave she was to try to go on with her life after the hideous events that had wrenched her world into tiny pieces.

I remembered the way he touched the image of her in the viewing pit, as though he could somehow be closer to her just from the touch of her face.

I remembered how…

Just for a moment, his eyes looked alive. They weren't red anymore, they were golden. And for a moment this pitiful little creature wasn't so pitiful, and I found myself envying him. He had found something many of us refuse to allow ourselves to consider, someone to love with all he had.

And it got him killed.

I walked back to where his ashes lay and picked up his abandoned notebook. The only name in it was that of the man who should have killed his beloved blonde meat-sack.

What a mess he'd made of everything.

…She was still in the same place in that alleyway. She was too scared to move. Foolish meat. Foolish Gelus.

They were well suited.

…But she looked so sad and alone, and I thought of Gelus again. I thought of how I found him infinitely more tolerable than any of the others of my kind. I thought of his kindness and the way he had laid his own life down for this human.

I thought of Ryuk and his constant trips to the human world, which he claimed he made out of boredom. But he kept going back, didn't he? And he often stayed with one human for months at a time. And I had not yet known him kill the person he was attached to.

I thought that perhaps I would like to know what could be so fascinating about those insignificant bundles of numbers.

I looked to Gelus' note and thought of what he would have wanted me to do.

I went to the meat's world.

I would rather be mocked along with the meat than be nothing more than unfeeling bones.


	31. Forest

#31 Forest

"You know… I could have another note hidden somewhere."

Just a throwaway comment from a fallen god. Dismissed as desperation. He couldn't have left any books. He wasn't far-sighted enough to think he might need more pages, and hide them somewhere.

And yet…

In a heavily wooded glade, somewhere secret, away from the prying eyes of the world, it waits.

Oh, the earth has piled over it and the seasons have passed many times, but to this day it is fresh and living in its temporary grave.

Slowly, slowly, things changed around this glade. The peaceful singing of the birds became more infrequent, until finally, it stopped all together.

The wildlife, with their eyes that somehow _knew _all the secrets of the world, slowed their visits to that place, and finally, though they weren't sure why, they made huge detours in their territory to stay away from whatever waited there.

As the time passes, as the world forgets Kira…

First the grass and flowers, they wither and die, almost glad to be free of the cursed earth.

Then the trees. Its power of death infects their roots and works its way upward, until trees that have lived a hundred years quietly and unceremoniously die, their living bark turning into stone.

As the time passes, it waits, and slowly around those cursed pages, the whole forest dies.

And it waits.


	32. Planet

#32 Planet

Everyone in the world knew Misa Amane's image by the time she was 20. The worlds eyes instantly recognised the pretty young blonde with pigtails and black lace that seemed to trim her entire body.

Yes, the world knew her face.

Only one person knew her for who she was.

And though on occasion she did annoy him, he couldn't deny her devotion was touching. Any man would feel the same, if he found someone so desirable was so madly in love with him that she had sacrificed half her life not once, but twice, just to make his work easier.

And for that he loved her back.

He loved her for being his first true follower. Others followed in her steps.

He loved her for the way she was always ready and waiting for him when he came home.

He loved the way she'd rub his shoulders and rest her head on his, whispering that he was all she needed in the world to be happy.

He loved the way her eyes went soft and warm when he talked of their future kingdom. He loved that there was someone he could talk to about all of this without fear of judgement.

He loved that even when she didn't understand his deeply intelligent statements, she pretended to. He loved that she didn't pretend to be any wiser than she was about the way the world worked.

He loved how bright she was.

He loved the way she'd often fall asleep with her head in his lap, inexplicably tired from a day of posing for the cameras.

He loved that she knew how to make his coffee just the way he liked, and that she'd instinctively known that sugar made him feel queasy lately.

He loved that she never doubted him for a second.

Yes, to Light Yagami the centre of the universe was in fact, himself, but Misa Amane was at the very least part of that universe.

Oh, though he'd never admit to it, he needed her. If only to validate his ego from time to time, to keep him going when he doubted himself.

Because she was his little star.

And as he lay dying on a warehouse floor, he spotted the sunlight streaming from the window, and oddly his thoughts turned to the little blonde angel who had stood by him through everything, whom he had betrayed for an ancient flame.

He had destroyed a pure and unselfish love.

And he thought that while he had been god, and the whole world, the very earth itself…

The Earth needed the sun to survive.

And the sun is a star.

And Kira needed something to make him sparkle.

And his starlight was gone.


	33. Beauty

#33 Beauty

Rem.

One of the very few female shinigami.

And the most beautiful.

Oh, not to untrained human eyes, maybe.

But to those who can see art, to those who know beauty is more than one-dimensional, they can see her for what she is.

Delicate, dainty.

Like a Ballerina in a jewellery box, turning and turning forever in time to the clockwork melody.

Pure white tinged with lavender at the ends, eyes a shade of gold so rare among the creatures of darkness, which they were.

To the untrained eye, just another monstrous shinigami.

To the shinigami, an enchantress.

And an iceberg.

Untouchable, an aura of cold all around her. As though she would break, or perhaps she would kill anyone who dared approach her.

Maybe both

And in contrast, the creature she grew to love…

Misa Amane.

A human.

The shinigami are very poor judges of human beauty, and to their eyes, there was none less deserving of Rem's delicate care.

A spindly little human, the colour of revolting life, pulsing with actual soul, real, genuine living energy. Something that disgusted the shinigami intensely.

But Rem looked at her first for her loneliness. She was so sad and frightened in a world that sincerely could not care less.

With time, Rem grew to see her beauty.

Perhaps it was time spent among the humans she so despised. Perhaps it was gentle kindness that drew her heart from its shell. Perhaps it was just that Misa's soul was indeed beautiful, and that could cross all preconceived boundaries.

But Misa wouldn't see Rem as anything more than her friend, and certainly she would never call the loyal shinigami attractive.

So they were left in a strange one-sided affair of the heart.

Whatever god or goddess there was of the uncontrollable emotion of love watched the shinigami. A smile grossed it's holy features as it realised that here, before its eyes, was proof of the power love could have.

If only, if only, just for a moment, they could see each other as beautiful. See each other for what they were.

And there was one way.

A kind of magic called 'Mirror of the soul'.

If two people who are meant to be together, gaze at once into the enchanted mirror, they will all at once see each other as they really are, as the beauty that their souls contain.

So the legend goes, only love can light the mirror of the soul.

The god waited, waited for the perfect moment, when Misa was brushing her hair in her vanity mirror, Rem watching her with curious fascination of how the strands of sunlight fell across her shoulders.

Just for a moment, that mirror into which they both stared became the mirror of the soul.

Misa's big blue eyes widened.

Behind her stood a woman. Tall, pale, clad in a long white gown, fanciful ribbons twirled around her waist and shoulders, giving her the look of an angel, with white wings.

Her hair was long and white, floating around her like a cloak, tinged with lavender, and her eyes glittered like golden stars.

She turned around and stared at Rem, but she didn't look any different to any other day.

In the same instant, just for a second, Rem saw, sat at that table, not a squirming little human…

A thing and delicate and dainty shinigami, made of lace and bone, black as night, strange trails of gold coins tied to her head, falling down her back and shoulders, her face a golden Noh mask, eyes like blue diamonds.

And then the magic was over.

"Rem…?" Misa squeaked.

Rem nodded, and had she known how, she might have blushed. "Yes Misa?"

For a moment, a moment, the little blonde model knew all she would ever need to know about love and true beauty.


	34. Play

#34 Play

Roger, bless his dear old heart, always maintained that the children in Wammy's house needed to stretch themselves creatively and on teamwork as well as focusing on their own individual talents. Watari had been against this.

This had caused some problems for some time in the running of the house until finally L had stepped between them and with his usual flawless logic suggested they give it a trial run, and see what happened.

And so it ended up that there was going to be a school play.

But of course, it being wammy's house, nothing ran smoothly. Even picking which of the traditional school plays to perform was difficult, Roger wisely chose to avoid _Annie_ or _Oliver_, in a house full of orphans this would have only produced a lot of sullen faces.

As it happened, it was Near who made the winning suggestion of perhaps staging a simple story, a fairytale, in fact.

So it happened that the play would be _Cinderella_.

Roger didn't even consider that perhaps none of the girls in the house would audition. (In reality, there was a plot being laid, and all the girls had been told specifically not to audition, under pain of large spiders in their beds) So finally the weary old man agreed that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if some of the boys played the female roles, after all, not many of them had broken voices yet, and they hadn't got to the point where acting as the female roles would label them as horrendously gay for the rest of their time at Wammy's.

Besides, it couldn't be denied that Mello, with his dainty but deadly features, did make a gorgeous little Cinderella, and none of the boys would dare call Mello names.

And Near did make an adorable little fairy godparent, (they at least changed _that_ role, no-one ever said it _had_ to be a godmother, after all), even Roger had to admit it was a novel idea, they'd ended up with a male Cinderella and fairy, and girl ugly sisters, the roles usually handed over to the boys.

And now, on the night of the performance, Roger was watching from the back of the hall, beside him Watari and L, and he was grinning, because for once his idea was working, and Watari would have to admit he was _right_.

Upon the stage the evil stepmother (Linda, as it happened) cackled and shoved forward one of her own daughters towards Prince Charming, who blinked behind his yellow goggles and took a step to one side, sending the sister flying. The audience laughed.

The sister arranged herself upon the seat and offered one foot.

"Matt looked scared out of his mind." L muttered. "But I suppose it suits the prince to look scared."

Roger smiled a bit, "He's just nervous, he was struggling with his lines, but he'll be fine." Mentally he added _or else_.

The first sister scowled and flounced off the stage, and the second was shoved forwards to her seat with another cackle. The lights dimmed on them and lit up one corner of the stage, where poor Mello-ella, in rags was begging for one more favour.

"Oh, please, help me get out of this prison!" Mello squeaked, and Roger marvelled at how he managed to sound _exactly_ like a girl in tears, not a pre-pubescent boy.

Near appeared in his pure white costume, which was merely his pyjamas with some frills sewed on, and a pair of white wings devised out of netting and bent coathangers.

"All right, Cinders, I can help you but one more time." He answered, and pointed his twinkling wand to the locked door.

The lights flickered off of this scene and once more to the hapless red-haired prince.

"N…no, this isn't the girl… give me the slipper back, or your… foot is going to shatter it." Matt stumbled a little, and took the plastic shoe back. "If you don't have any other daughters, I'll go…" He turned, as though to leave…

Roger crossed his fingers, if it was going to go wrong, this would be just the place.

Mello hurried into the scene. "Wait! Let me try it on!"

Matt turned, and a small smile spread across his face. Slowly he walked over to Mello and took his hand, leading him to the little chair.

Roger was amazed. Suddenly they really didn't look like a mis-matched pair of boys acting out some fairytale that had been done to death. They really did look like a prince leading the love of his life towards their happy ending.

Slowly this prince knelt before the poor girl, put-upon by her family, and lifted the glass slipper to her foot.

It slid on, and fit perfectly.

Linda stomped her foot, a perfect picture of rage. "No!! Your highness! It can't be her! She wasn't even at the ball!"

Mello's head shot up, and he scowled. "Yes I was you daft tart!"

The audience roared with laughter, and in the back, Roger winced.

The laughter seemed to snap Mello back into character, and he coughed, "I mean… I can prove it!" he reached to the pocket of the rags he wore, and produced the second slipper, "See? I have the other slipper."

And with a grin and barely suppressed laughter, Matt took it and placed it on Mello's other foot, getting to his feet and offering his hand.

Mello took it, and hugged his best friend, appearing to mutter something to him. Matt grinned and appeared to force back another laugh.

Roger wondered with sudden horror what those two little monsters were planning.

Linda, apparently remembering she was supposed to say something, squeaked out, "But sire! Look at those ragged clothes and her filthy face!"

Matt looked up from Mello's shoulder and nodded, "Hey, I didn't fall in love with the dress, and she's still hotter than you with muck on her face." He lifted Mello's chin. "It's Mell- uh, Cinderella I love."

Mello blushed slightly. Roger wondered where he'd learnt to do that on cue.

"I love you too, Matt…" the blonde blinked, then stammered out, "I mean, my Prince."

And then they kissed.

And while the kids watching squealed and made cat-calls, and Roger gritted his teeth and debated how long he'd be punishing those two for wrecking the play like that, the curtains fell.

Roger turned, about to start making his apologies, and realised suddenly that L was giggling, and Watari actually smiling.

"You know, old friend, I think you should make this play a more regular occurrence… at the very least, it's amusing."


	35. Straw

#35 Straw

Strawberries. It always came down to strawberries.

Misa wished she had known before she married L that one day, all her affections and beauty and feminine wiles would be in competition with L's favourite fruit.

Certainly she wished she'd known that there would be occasions when he would reject her for the sweet, red flesh of strawberries.

An afternoon in the height of summer, the Kira task force building warmed by sunlight and humidity.

Misa in her bikini, on the way to the pool.

L had half-wrestled her to the floor as she walked past, not that she put up much resistance. She never did, with L. Not anymore. Some part of her wondered if perhaps it was guilt that made her so compliant to his will, after all, she had once believed that he was the wicked one, and Light her hero with only her best interests at heart. Perhaps now she knew the truth she was allowing him more liberates than she would normally allow any man.

And then, as he kissed along her neck, she felt her heart swell with sudden affection and she told herself that no, this wasn't the result of guilt on her part, nor manipulation on his, this was something more.

Her hands crept into his hair and gripped at the black mesh of wiry hair, giggling at the soft groan he gave in response to having his messy hair pulled.

"Eru-kun likes that?" she purred.

"Mmmh…" L hummed in response, long, pale white fingers setting to work on her corset top, slowly looping the laces undone. "Misa-chan is so beautiful…" he paused in speaking to tug his own shirt off over his head. "You should know better than to walk around my building half-naked, Misa-chan, I might think you are easy to take advantage of."

Misa giggled, "I'm only easy for you, L-kun…" she purred, lifting one leg to curl around his, foot stroking along his strong, tense calf muscles.

"Misa-chan is all L's…" L gasped in response and sucked lightly at the skin on her neck, leaving a neat round red mark.

And then the computer on L's desk whirred into life as a large gothic 'W' appeared and Watari's voice chimed in with, "L, your sundae is ready, shall I bring it up to you?"

L's reaction made Misa fume. He instantly appeared to forget the blonde beauty beneath him and leapt up, bouncing to his chair and replying to Watari in the affirmative

That left her, a few moments later, watching L slurping up strawberry ice-cream and milkshake through a straw from a tall thin glass. And the damn fruits were even dotted over the top of it.

She sighed and wondered if she'd always be in competition with L's sweets. It wasn't even as though she could attract him to her in the same way, and it stung that he actually cast her aside for _food._

She glanced to the table and happened to notice a second straw for the ice-cream dessert. A sly smile crept across her face and she picked it up, thinking for a moment that there might be one way she could beat the damn fruit.

L's already wide black eyes widened further as he watched her lean forwards, and press the straw beneath the surface of whipped cream, giving one firm suck and letting out a soft 'mmmm', a faint trail of white across her rosebud lips.

The strawberries simply couldn't compete.


	36. Enemy

#36 Enemy

There are infinite universes. Infinite bubbles of time wherein the every choice made by every person in the length of their lives are played out.

The same story, in so many different ways.

In some, L never dies. In some, Misa avenges Light's death and becomes a goddess in her own right. In some, there are even happy endings.

And in this one, Kira is the god of the New World. And L, he keeps as a broken and humiliated pet. For amusement and his own sadistic pleasure.

It is a world so often explored by the writer, but this time there is a difference.

This time, Light sits in his golden chair and watches with a bored expression as his followers ritually humiliate the once great detective, kicking and punching at him, spitting on his shivering form that had long ago ceased to struggle with Kira's devoted followers.

With a deep sigh, Light waved one hand to signal them to stop, and leave him and his pathetic prisoner in peace.

L laid there, curled in a ball, naked for the collar bearing the symbol that once represented justice to so many. He didn't move.

Light just watched him, and pondered on why he no long felt anything when he watched L being reduced to this, a filthy, whimpering creature, too traumatised to even move without permission.

He used to delight in torturing his nemesis like this. Now he just felt empty inside. Even teasing L with footage of his precious little heirs being used as slaves did nothing.

"Get up." He snapped.

With a shuddering breath, L used his bony arms to push himself first into a sitting position, and then slowly onto his feet. His once strong and muscle-toned limbs shook with the effort of taking his weight.

Light reached into his pocket and threw a single piece of gum across the room. It bounced off L's mid-section and the man dove at the sugary treat like a wild animal.

Light frowned.

L would never have done that, back then. He would have had a tray of cakes beside him, and never been hungry or denied his sweet addiction.

Of course, back then L would never have obeyed the order of 'get up' either. He would have remained stubbornly on the floor just to annoy Kira.

There was so much about him that was different now; it was like he…

Wasn't even L anymore.

Kira's caramel eyes widened slightly as his brain made that final connection and the truth laid bare before him. This beaten and broken man who even now ate like a creature that had not seen food in many millennia… this was not L. This was something that Kira had made L into.

And what pleasure was there in trying to hurt an enemy who didn't even exist anymore?

Inside himself, Kira felt a rush of something he knew he should never have felt for L.

Compassion, and regret.

He swallowed hard. "L."

The man-thing looked up. "Yes Kira-sama?"

Light winced. "No, L, not Kira-sama. Call me Light-kun." He gulped back the painful lump in his throat, "And… I'm going to call you Ryuzaki, all right?"

L's head tilted in confusion. "…Light-kun?"

Light nodded, climbing down from his throne and kneeling next to L on the floor. "That's right, remember, like you used to."

L moved slowly and with shudders, like a fearful kitten. But slowly he spoke, "…Light-kun…and I am… I am…"

Light breathed, trying to convince himself this was about restoring some of L's spirit so that there might again be some enjoyment in breaking him. "You are L, you are Ryuzaki, you are the three greatest detectives in the world, and you are Justice."

L's eyes sprang open wide, and suddenly Light could see behind those coal-coloured circles L's soul pushing back to the surface. All the time that had passed melted like hot butter behind those eyes.

And L began to weep. He wept bitterly for what he had become. Bringing his hands to his eyes he shook with a grief that had been suppressed for so many years.

Light held him and allowed him to cry into his shoulder, and listened to the soft mumbles of "Oh god… what happened to me… how did this…. Why did I let this happen…"

Light felt the tears on his own cheeks before he realised that he too was weeping. He blinked hard, confused, at first.

He realised with sudden clarity that he had no idea how to answer L's wept questions, how had this happened to them? Once upon a time, had they not been friendly rivals? Once, making L laugh at one of his jokes was the greatest achievement he had.

Once, being Kira had meant being merciful and helping the weak and helpless. Not controlling the world through fear and threats.

Suddenly, Light wanted nothing more than to go back to when this had all began, and make the choice not to touch that cursed notebook.

Behind him, the shinigami laughed.


	37. Cave

# 37 Cave

(A/N: This is set in an AU that is a lot more fantasy-based ^^ just wanted to clear that up)

"So what's out next move, boss?" The mage questioned as he walked alongside his very best friend in the world.

The blonde archer beside him frowned, shifting his quiver and bow on his shoulder as he glared at the vast forest before them, as though it might melt.

"Sir Near and his band of men have already made it through here towards the King's castle." The Mage pointed out again, brushing his dirtied hands off on his long black robe, the white edging of it caught the fading sunlight and shimmered a little.

Mello growled, "Shut up, Matt, I told you before that man isn't the king. He killed the true king."

Matt sighed and nodded. Mello was always like this these days. Why couldn't it go back to the days before, when they were kept hidden in Wammy's keep with all the other children who were candidates to become the king of the land?

King L had believed he would never have his own children…so orphans were gathered to be trained to take over after he passed. Mello had been the second in line; his archery skills put him far ahead of all but 'Sir' Near, a boy skilled with a blade.

And then somehow that assassin Lord Light had wormed his way into the King's council, and there was no doubt in Mello's mind that Lord Light and the mysterious evil Wizard Kira were one and the same.

So he and Matt were travelling to the castle, to take back the throne that was theirs by right.

However all was not going as planned. Sir Near had already gathered more information than they and had a fine band of warriors and horses.  
They only had what they could carry and their own feet.

"Mello." Matt sighed out wearily as he tripped over another stone and felt his mages cloak catch on yet another bush, "Can we find shelter? It's too dark to carry on now, and it looks like rain."

The archer spun around, Matt trembled, and in this darkness Mello's black clothes made him almost invisible. He'd grown more frightening since he attempted to burn down one of Kira's smaller castles across the land and scarred his beautiful face.

"Matt, I swear to the goddess I…"

There was a crack of thunder somewhere overhead, and in an instant the rain began to hammer through the trees.

Mello's scowl intensified. "All right, smartarse. You find us some shelter. Use some of those powers you're supposed to have."

Matt gulped. It was no great secret that as a mage he left a lot to be desired. Still he lifted the twin crystals he wore around his neck to his eyes, muttering softly, "Great goddess, grant me sight beyond sight."

Either the storm was helping his power or he was finally improving, because the trees parted before him and he spied a small cave not far away. With a smile he grasped the archer's hand and pulled him along to the only shelter there was.

The two lay there in the dark for some time, before Mello grudgingly sacrificed some of his arrows for kindling and Matt lit them.

"We should get out of these wet things, Mello. You'll get a cold." Matt suggested tentatively.

Mello growled, but did as asked, slipping out of the soaked tunic and leaving him in his undershirt, shivering and huddling closer to the fire as Matt hung the tunic and his own robe to dry as best he could.

For a while they sat in silence, watching the flames.

"Mello… what are we going to do…?"

Mello sighed deeply. "…Kira will be Near's kill now. No changing that. But we can help bring the bastard down. We can kidnap his consort."

"Princess Misa?" Matt blinked, recalling the blonde princess of a faraway land who was so utterly devoted to King Light.

Mello rolled his eyes, "No, fool. Lady Takada. My information tells me that Kira has been seen sneaking to her rooms in the dead of night. I think she's got part of his magic book. We can take her down, then Near only has to worry about Light himself."

Matt nodded. "…Are we going to die, Mello?"

Mello bit his lip and didn't look up at his friend. His plan… it was suicidal, he knew. The plan was to steal two horses once they reached the town, and while Matt used a smokescreen spell to distract the guards, Mello would kidnap the lady.

There were no two ways about it, one of them was going to die, probably Mello. His horsemanship wasn't nearly as good as Matt's…

"Mello, I promise, I will still go through with it, no matter what, but you have to tell me now, are we going to die?" Matt persisted.

How could he lie to such honest emerald eyes?

"Yes, Matt." He whispered. "One, maybe both, of us are going to die."

For a moment there was only the sound of the fire and rain.

"Then Mello, I hope you can forgive me."

Mello looked up, puzzled, "What for?"

"This." Matt whispered, and with that he grabbed his best friend's cheeks and pressed their lips together in a passionate and desperate kiss that ripped through Mello's body like a bolt of lightening.

At first he did nothing. And then his body responded, his hands crept into Matt's hair, trying to hold him closer, pull him closer, never ever let him go.

And in his mind he feverently questioned how had he never noticed his friends attractiveness before? How had he never realised how Matt felt about him? Why hadn't they done this sooner, when there was so much more time for them…?

But then the questions were lost in a soup of delight and pleasure and intensity he had only dreamed of before. Matt's hands, the things mages took better care of than anything else, caressing each inch of him…

Outside, the lightening and thunder could not drown out the cries that came from that cave.

Eventually, when it was over, the two laid in each other's arms, and waited for the sun to rise on the last day of their lives.

(A/N again: I'm off on vacation for two weeks, unfortunately this means no updates until I get back, however expect a big pile of drabbles when I do get back, lol. In the meantime, R&R plz ^^)


	38. Invisible

#38 Invisible

Often Misa felt she didn't really exist in L's world.

His building was so full of computers and sterility and rigid, straight lines that she felt like she was intruding, with her bright golden hair and sapphire eyes that spoke of the outside world L rarely set foot in.

Sometimes, she even feared the building.

In her dreams she was walking down one of the endless hallways, and gradually she would realise that it wasn't ending… and the walls seemed to be closing in around her, and like something from a Stephen King novel, the building was _alive_ and organic around her, and it was jealous. Jealous because she could be with L in a way his indoor, sterile world could not. She could give him warmth and affection and make him more human than the machine he had become.

Under the fluorescent lights, she felt an unwelcome guest.

It wasn't just the building and her over-active imagination though; it was how L's behaviour would change when he was on a case too long. He would sit for hours, hunched in front of screens that must have been slowly murdering his eyes for all these years.

He would barely move, only occasionally twitching a stiff arm towards his ever-present coffee cup and cakes. His expression became the pallid blankness of a dead man who has not yet been buried.

And his voice… she hated how his voice changed when he had no occasion to speak to any human being for hours on end. The warm, melting-honey voice which she adored suddenly turned into short, choppy sentences in a mechanical tone that reminded her far too much of a robot, and not the man she had agreed to spend her life (however short it might now have been) with.

All this was made somehow worse by the fact that L himself didn't even notice the changes.

It scared her. It truly and honestly filled her with a cold terror that the man she loved could so easily change. Oh, she knew he became so mechanical to solve the crimes faster and therefore help people, but at the same time she wanted to scream at the rest of the world to leave him alone, he was _her_s now, and though the world had needed him first, surely it was her turn now?

The nights she had walked past his chair to their bedroom, calling to him to come to bed, it was really too late for him to be up, and had got no response, not because he was ignoring her, but because his brain had shut down all communications to the world outside his own head, and he truly hadn't heard a word she said.

She whispered some of these concerns to Watari, and he could only tell her to wait out these times of invisibility, because when L came back from whatever places his mind wandered, he would need her to love him and reassure him that the world was not full of only the wicked.

One night it was all too much, as she walked in from some modelling shoot or another and discovered him crouched in front of six televisions, reviewing security footage of some terrorist cell or another. Over and over again, from various angles, they shot a crying woman in the head.

Misa choked, tears leaping to her eyes at the sight of death. Since the kira case she'd developed an aversion to anything to do with the dreaded subject.

L didn't even twitch at the sound of her whimper, nor her feet scampering past to their bedroom, desperate to be _away_.

But as Misa laid there on the bed, muffling her tears with the pillow, she felt a second weight, Very light, climb onto the bed behind her, and two painfully skinny arms curled around her upper body in an awkward hug, he was still so unsure about contact.

She had sighed and lifted her arms to his own, stroking his white shirt along his arms.

And he whispered, "Why is the world so wicked?"

Her heart skipped a few beats, so happy that suddenly, once again, he was hers and he needed her. Dutifully, she turned over in his arms to face his black eyes, seeing the doubt and sadness within them that made him _human_ again.

She began to whisper her standard reassurances, feeling as though at that moment, she was the most real and solid thing in his entire world.


	39. Hide

#39 Hide

It's what we've done our entire lives, right? It's one of those things kids just do automatically, like chasing or digging in the playground with sticks. Hiding.

Its simple enough, you just find a good place where no-one will think to look, and you stay there until the seeker finds you, or you make a break for the base.

And somehow it always seemed so dangerous, didn't it? We'd go and hide together, you knew all the best places and in any case, we were joined at the hip.

You always picked dark, dank, damp places; places no one else went because they were too scared. Stories about how Beyond haunted the house, searching for children to laugh at in his manic fashion kept people away from dark places.

For a while it wouldn't be so bad, we'd sit there in those dark places trying to hold in giggles and stay perfectly still while we listened to one of the other kids counting down from one hundred. And we'd almost have a fit when they ran right past our place calling ready or not.

Then after a while we'd chatter quietly about whatever was on our minds, for me it was usually Pokemon, for you it was L.

Soon enough, our conversations would die down into nothing, occasionally one or the other of us would try to get it going again, but something about those places crept in and made it dangerous to speak.

That was when the little twitches would start. I'd start thinking too hard about the stories of what Beyond did to those poor people, and wincing, move closer to you. I never knew what set you off, but you were always shivering slightly.

I never understood how hiding gave us such an adrenaline rush. Still we'd stay there, huddled together, neither one mentioning the pants-crapping fear that had suddenly seized us both.

Then we'd hear it. Don't deny it, because we _did_. Whether or not it was just our imagination was never an issue because no matter how great the imagination, it can't make a soft gasp or groan or slithering sound.

We'd run from whichever spot we chose to hide in screaming. Usually we'd reach the base and win the game anyway, and afterwards we'd be falling around laughing at each other's panic, but in those instants when we ran it'd be cold hard terror that we were running from.

Not so different now, is it?

Only now the game's bigger, now we're hiding in crappy apartments across the city, every now and then the seeker gets a little too close for comfort and it's a mad dash to the next safe house. You still know all the best places to hide out, the places no-one would think to look, at least that's what you say every time we have to move on to a new place and I question if we'll ever have a permanent place to stay.

At night, we either sit up together monitoring multiple screens, or on the rare occasions that we allow ourselves a break, curled up together in bed.

And we still mumble to each other about whatever's on our mind. Except it's not, Kira's always on our minds, we just fill the silence with talk about Pokemon and L.

Eventually the conversation dwindles, and then we start to hear those little sounds again, and both of us hold our breaths, because maybe this time it's Kira's army, come to kill us both. So far it's just been the noises any building will make at night.

But god, Mello, I'm scared. I feel my heart racing and that same cold terror rising along my backbone every time there's a creak or a slight, light thud in the hall. Only difference is that this time, I can't run.


	40. Accident

#40 Accident

Mello felt the sadness before he heard the soft whimpers.

It was a slow, creeping sort of feeling, like an ice-cube was being dripped as it melted onto his bare stomach.

Slowly he turned on his heel, socks doubling as skates on the freshly-polished hallway floor. It was supposed to be against the rules for the children to skid about in their socks but most of them did anyway, having only the smallest micron of respect for Roger.

Besides, they all knew Roger couldn't care less about them, the old prick. All he wanted was a reasonably clean building and somewhere quiet where he could dip his insects in poison and pin them to boards for display.

Matt once muttered to Mello that the old fart would be happier if he could dip all the children in formaldehyde and pin them by their hands and feet to giant cork-boards, so he could put them somewhere to gather dust and bring them out on special occasions to admire, grotesque trophies.

Mello had told Matt he'd been watching too many old horror shows. He didn't admit that the image of his friends and himself being subjected to miniature crucifixions scared the bejeezus out of him.

That was academic. The point was that he had been skating down the hall in his socks, and heard a soft thud somewhere behind him. And now he turned he saw the source of that thud had been his arch-rival.

Near was sitting on his behind, an expression of surprise and pain on his pale face. Mello recognised it, though he'd never seen Near display that face before. It was the expression used by all small children who have just hurt themselves, and genuinely need a hug from their mother or they are going to burst into helpless tears.

But of course, the children here don't have mothers. Or those that do have abusive or incarcerated… (mello hesitated to call these creatures 'mothers') people who happened to give birth to them.

And while his instinct was to smirk at how pathetic Near looked and skid away, he had no intention of being blamed for the boy falling down, so with careful slowness he slid back to where Near sat, biting his lip and blinking hard, trying to force it all back.

Mello crouched beside him. "Come on, it can't have been that bad, whatever happened. Where'd you hurt?"

Near sniffed and pointed at his bent knee. "I fell on it."

Mello nodded and reached to roll up Near's pyjama leg, thinking to himself that this kid seriously needed to pay more attention to what was happening around him, then he might not have forgotten that the floors were slippery and shiny today and wouldn't have skidded on his knee.

Unbidden, his mind remarked on how pale and soft Near's skin was on his legs. He hadn't ever let them see the light of day, most likely. Mello felt a blush on his cheeks as he realised he was seeing a part of Near hardly anyone had ever seen.

He frowned at the dark purplish bruise. But that was all it was, a bruise.

He sighed. "You're fine, nothing to cry about."

Near blinked those big dark eyes again. "Kiss it better."

Mello started, "What!?"

"Kiss it better." Near repeated. "The nurse does it."

Mello wanted to argue, but at this point he could hear others coming around the corner, the last thing he wanted was to be caught touching Near's pale leg. In one swift motion he pecked the blossoming mark and yanked Near's trouser leg back down, before slipping to his feet and skidding off into the darker parts of the house.


	41. Friend

#41 Friend

A Friend in Need…

In his dingy apartment lit only by the faint blue glow of six computer screens, Matt yawned. He stretched his arms and cracked his fingers like an expert pianist, technically speaking he could play the piano, and he just hadn't since leaving Wammy's.

Perhaps it was time to log off and turn in for the night. He'd got a lot of work done, hacking into various agencies for various other agencies, placing spy-bots into numerous email accounts. There'd be a nice little nest egg in his account tomorrow, maybe enough to allow himself a couple of new computers to cannibalise for his latest project.

On the surface, he wasn't doing too bad. He had his own place; he was covering the bills, the work was steady (just not legal) and he seemed to be getting on with life.

He lit up while he debated the merits of going to bed at this late hour. He wondered if, wherever he was, Mello was sleeping.

God, Mello. Not a day went by when Matt didn't think about that pretty little blonde kid with a temper problem.

But he was gone. Vanished to places unknown to avenge L, and all he'd said to Matt, his best friend since they were four years old was 'If I need you, I'll call you'.

That was just a nice way of saying 'I'll never see you again'. Matt knew Mello would never really _need_ him. That kid had never needed anyone in his life, he could manage on his own.

It was only after he left that it really sunk in to fourteen-year-old Matt's brain that Mello really was gone for good from his life. It was only then that he realised maybe he liked Mello a little more than a friend. And then he'd cried for three days solid.

But now he was a grown up, and sure he regretted never telling Mello all that sentimental crap he felt, but life went on, the world _would_ keep turning even though Mello wasn't there.

Matt shook his head and started shutting the computers down.

His cellphone started to bleep out the Super Mario theme song, and he groaned, not another job, not this late.

He was half-way to leaving it to go to voicemail, he'd take the job in the morning, when he was less knackered, but…

He wasn't sure what it was that made him pick up the phone, but later on he theorised that when you've grown up with someone you get a certain sixth sense about when they're in trouble.

He picked up, "Hello?"

At first there was nothing but a hissing noise, Matt almost hung up, figuring it was a prank call.

Then a couple of choking gasps. And finally, "Ma… t…"

Matt gulped, grinding the end of his cig into the wall, leaving yet another burn-mark, "…Yeah, this is Matt, who is this?"

There was a nasty _wet_ sound and Matt had a vision of some horrible monstrosity dripping blood onto a phone.

"Me…l…"

Matt almost swallowed his tongue. "Mello?"

"…Hel…me…hur…t…"

That sealed it. All the information he needed was right there, Mello was hurt.

He took a breath, "All right Mello, deep breaths, I'll come help but I need to know where you are. Say it slow and careful."

"Use…. GPS…. Idiot." That voice sounded so faint.

Matt nodded, remembering that all cellphones had a GPS chip now, all he'd have to do was a bit of low-level hacking and-

He bit his lip and shook his head, "Ok, ok, I'll do that, Mello, are you in America?"

"Yes." His voice sounded so weak.

"Thank god… me too. Ok, I'll be with you as soon as I can… hold on for me, ok?"

He didn't even have to question why of all people, Mello called him first, or why the idiot didn't call 911 if he was that badly hurt. All he needed was the knowledge that right at this moment, after god knows how much time, Mello needed him.

They were lucky that they'd ended up in the same city after leaving the house. Later on, when half his face was behind bandages, Mello would call it divine intervention, while nodding at his cross. Matt just said Mello was a lucky asshole, while making him another mug of hot chocolate and making sure his wounds were healing.

Eventually Matt asked him why, as Mello had lain dying in the ruins of his base, he called Matt.

Mello eventually admitted it was because he was convinced he was going to die, and above all things, he wanted to tell his best friend in the world that… well, that he was his best friend and for that, Mello loved him.

Matt had laughed and pecked Mello's scarred cheek, and muttered back, "You're my best friend too."


	42. Lake

#42 Lake

There is a story, in among the old legends, that the souls of the dead flow down rivers into the sea, and there in the sea they gather together until they are indistinct, no longer individual souls but one great soul of mankind.

Some nights, Kira dreamt of them.

He dreamt he stood by a stream and watched shinigami, with their great, terrible claws, fashioning tiny boats of paper and string.

He dreamt that he asked them why, and they each replied that their duty was not only to kill, but to look after the souls of the departed.

He dreamt that his own shinigami, he of the black wings and magnificent grin, told him he too had to take care of the souls he harvested in the name of justice.

Kira dreamt feverishly that he knelt by the banks with piles of paper and bottles of ink and worked far longer and harder than the shinigami, but still each attempt t making a soul boat made his fingers bleed. He began to write the names of the souls in the blood of his fingers, faster than ink.

With each passing boat he would light the tiny candle inside and place it on the water, without looking up to watch it go.

He came to the last boat, at long last, and though his fingers wept in agony, he was somehow determined to prove that he was as good as the gods, and kept working. It was done, and he lifted his head to place the final boat in the water.

Only to see a floor of golden candlelight before him. Strange and oddly beautiful, he only then saw that he had placed the souls in a lake, and from there they could not pass on, and now the lake was naught but a river of souls.

He cried in frustration and reached to pull the fruits of his labour from the water, perhaps there was still time, he dreamt, to put them in the stream…

But he could not reach far enough, and overbalanced, falling in and screaming as he was pulled under. All he saw as he descended to the bottom was a sea of little pinpoints of candlelight.

Those were the dreams which woke Light up screaming.


	43. Petty

#43 Petty

"You're just a murderer."

That much, Near knew, was totally true. But unlike anything else he had said, that wasn't needed. Everything else had been a means to the end of proving once and for all that Light Yagami was Kira.

But calling him a murderer and nothing more was possibly overdoing it. When he'd rehearsed it in his mind before coming out here to this warehouse he'd imagined Gevanni telling him off for such a statement.

And then he remembered the look on poor Matt's face as he slumped against that beautiful car. He recalled how Mello's exquisite form was burnt beyond all recognition.

Near felt his stomach twist in anger. Matt wouldn't have minded the being shot, but they got blood on his beautiful car, Near had observed the boy enough to know that the red classic car was the thing he valued most in the world. It was Matt's pride and joy and because of Light, his bloodstains had been splattered all over the paintwork, and bullets had left holes through the body. Near had managed to get a hold of the car afterwards and had been told the engine was custom-built (probably by Matt himself), and beyond repair. And somehow that made Near angrier than the fact that his old friend had been killed.

And poor, dear Mello. Mello who had been a god among mortals, both Adonis and Aphrodite, and glad of it. Mello who had taken such great care of his appearance and who could make everyone in a room look at him just by walking in.

Burnt to an unrecognisable skeleton. It was no comfort to Near that his cause of death was heart attack. The least they could have done was allowed him to keep his beauty. It would have been somehow appropriate that Mello died and left a beautiful corpse. He would have looked so perfect in his casket, surrounded by lillies.

Now what was left of him would be buried in an unmarked grave, beside L's. Near bit his lip in sheer rage.

It wasn't _fair_. Mello and Matt had been his _friends_, once upon a time when they were still only children. Ok, he and Mello had never really got along, but they hadn't been enemies. Because of Light, he now had no-one. Oh, he was sure his team would stick around, and doubtless Roger would come sniffing around for work before long, but that wasn't even close to the bond L's three heirs had shared.

And as Near felt the white-hot anger bubbling inside him for the man calling himself god, he found he couldn't make himself feel guilty for calling him nothing more than a murderer.


	44. Trace

#44 Trace

He's still here.

He's dead and buried but somehow he's still here in this horrible building of his.

No-one sees him, you see, he's too clever to let anyone see him, that would give the game away. No, what he does is he watches.

He watches from around corners and behind chairs where he knows I won't catch sight of him. But I know he's there, waiting for me to slip up. I don't think he can leave the building though, so I can still be Kira at home.

But he's watching me all the time at work. He steals the sugar lumps, I've counted them, and they keep disappearing.

I think Aizawa knows he's there, I bet they're working together. It makes sense, Matsuda's too thick to see the truth and Mogi's a big dumb gorilla in a man costume. Aizawa though, he's suspicious. I should kill his precious daughter to take some of the attention off of me. So it's not obvious Kira did it, maybe a traffic accident or something.

How I know he's there also is… the smell. It's not always obvious, but if I really concentrate I can just smell it. Strawberries and sugar. It doesn't stop him even when I tell the men strawberries aren't allowed in my building.

It is my building. It is. I'm L now.

Except he thinks I'm not. But he said over and over that if I weren't under suspicion I would make a good L. Or was that another one of his lies? He told a lot, because he was evil, like me.

I'm being stupid. He just said that to see how I'd react, like he does with everything. That's why he's stealing the sugar lumps, to see how I'll react. He wants to see if I'll make myself look crazy by telling everyone that L's still somehow here and stealing the sugar. No, I'm smarter than that; I'll just keep counting them casually, and keep a note of how many vanish without a trace.

Stupid Misa's no help. She just walks up and down the halls smiling, as if she can't smell him or hear the soft scurry of footsteps along the carpets as he runs for another hiding place.

She just says I need to lay down and relax a little, that I'm under stress. Screw her, I may be stressed but I'm not insane. He _really_ is somehow still running around and making up his percentages.

Sometimes when I'm working late, on my own, I hear him talking.

Just a faint whisper, so I think it's inside my own head, but he whispers all right. I recognise his voice.

I'll get him though. He wants to hang around when he should be dead and buried? Fine, then he can watch me destroy his pretty little heirs, and then the house they came from. And then anyone and everyone they love. I'll make it slow and long, so he can watch it all.

Hear that L? I'm not crazy, and your little traces all over my building prove that, so I'm going to kill the children, your two boys are going to burn for you.


	45. Fake

# 45 Fake

I'm laying in a concrete cell. I was bad again, so that asshole Mikami threw me in here.

It's ok though, because in here I can make my plans. Besides, I kind of deserve this crap, since… when Light took over and caught us, I didn't do anything. I just stood and screamed for Mello to do something. And he tried, he even managed to get a bullet through one of his follower's heads. A couple of others were wounded, but there were too many of them.

I shoulda done something.

And then we were in front of Kira. Stripped and on our knees. God, L was there, chained by his neck to Kira's throne. He didn't look like L anymore.

He gave us to his followers. Near went to some reporter guy who helped spread the word of Kira. I went to Mikami, the so-called 'hand of Kira'.

Mello…

Poor, beautiful, perfect Mello… Light gave him to that fat director. Dame- something. I can't pronounce it.

He broke Mello's rosary before he sent him away. I wanted to leap up and rip his throat out with my teeth. I was gonna, but… I was scared. Now I don't know where Mello is. He's got to be alive though… god, what that bastard must be doing to him…

I'm going to make it right though. I've worked it out; I'm not third just because I'm cute. Mikami doesn't know I've hidden a knife in here, in between some of the stones of the cell. I've been using it to dig around the rocks, loosen up the concrete. See, I know this cell's just a stone block that leads right to the outside world. If I can just get one of the blocks loose enough I can crawl out.

And then it'll be easy; I worked it out, see? I'll run like hell. Stay in dark alleyways and in back-streets, and it'll be bloody freezing since Mikami won't let me have clothes, but no matter, because by now I'm so mucky anyway I can blend into the garbage.

And I'll run and run until I get to the city limits, I mean, Tokyo must end somewhere, right? Yeah. I'll get into the countryside where Kira won't be able to get me so easy. I know a lot about the outdoors, never liked going there but I know enough to know how to build shelter, gather berries and stuff.

I'll be careful and quiet. I'll go from town to town gathering those few people left who don't believe in Kira. There must be some still left. If need be I'll go all over the world, picking people up here and there until I have an army.

Yeah… an army against Kira. And I'll lead them here, one by one Kira's supporters will fall.

And on the final day we'll stand before Kira's palace and storm the place. I'll take great pleasure in doing what I should have done, ripping his throat out with my bare teeth, if need be.

Once he's dead, I'll go to where Mello is being held… I'll find him and I'll kneel next to his poor, broken body and whisper…

"It's okay Mello, it's me… we won… we killed him, we're all going to be okay."

His arms'll come up and he'll hug me tight, like he used to, mumbling about how much he loves me and how we'll be together again at long last…

We'll rebuild the world. L will be in charge, we'll free him and Near too and they'll make everything right again. And it'll be thanks to me.

Me. The kid who always got picked last for football, whose only purpose was to be Mello's sidekick. I'll have saved the entire world, and Mello will love me for it. He won't even see L anymore, I'll be his whole world because I risked everything and saved him.

We'll be together again…

We'll…

~*~*~

Mikami scowled, tapping one foot irritably as Kira's personal physicians got to work patching up his red-haired pet.

The damn kid was more trouble than he was worth, laying there babbling all the time, looking around at things that weren't there, and now the idiot had smuggled a knife from somewhere and cut himself up.

Even as the doctors worked to bandage his arms, he was mumbling about revolution and rescue, taking place inside his own mind.


	46. Early

#46 Early

Misa had a certain routine when she was expecting a boyfriend over for dinner (and possibly more if she really liked him).

It went like this:

Long, hot bath, followed by several hours making herself look unforgettable, and then several more hours trying to work out cooking instructions and somehow make something vaguely edible. (Usually at this point she ended up getting fed up and ordering out and making it look like she'd cooked).

So when she heard someone come into her apartment as she was stepping out the bath, her first reaction was the yank on her dressing gown, pull a lamp out of the wall-socket and sneak (as stealthily as humanly possible while wearing a bright pink dressing gown) into her own living room, intending to wallop the intruder around the head.

As it turned out L's perfectly honed reflexes saved him a nasty blow to the head from a lamp. He spun around and grabbed it before she could bring it crashing onto his head.

He blinked twice at her, "…Misa-chan is not dressed."

For a few moments she couldn't actually comprehend why he was there, then her mind caught up with her mouth and she squeaked out, "But it's not time for our date yet! Misa hasn't even started cooking!"

L smiled slightly, bringing his thumb to his mouth and tilting his head adorably. "Exactly, I came over early to help Misa-chan get everything ready." He looked down slightly. "Misa's dressing gown is coming undone."

Misa winced, tugging her gown tighter closed, "Eru! Have you _EVER_ been on a date before?! You're not supposed to come over early!! I need the time to… get things ready!" she flailed one hand at her small kitchen, as if that would explain everything.

L's innocently hurt face almost broke her heart.

"I apologise, I just wanted to spend time with Misa-chan. And in answer to your question, no, I have not been on a 'date' before." He bit through his thumbnail with anxious chewing. "However if Misa wishes I will leave…"

He made to shuffle past her, but she grabbed his arm before he got very far.

"It's ok Eru…" She mumbled, a light peach blush covering her cheeks at her own harshness to him. She should have guessed how little experience he had, and after all, he already ranked far above any other boyfriend she'd had by saying, without embarrassment, that he liked spending time with her.

Misa's routine changed after that.

Long hot bath with Eru-kun, laughing whenever the bubbles tickled him or his hands slipped as he washed her back and he got all flustered and cute.

Getting dressed together, because she loved the way he watched her with wide, fascinated eyes, as though he couldn't believe she was really there, with him.

Then they would stand together in the kitchen and after a few moments of floundering around, they'd both admit that neither of them were ever going to be a chef, and L would call Watari in.

And Misa found that for the first time since her parents horrible murder, she felt safe, happy and protected.


	47. Family

#47 Family

(A/N: This one's very depressing, you have been warned. What's even more depressing is most of it's probably true. The song is _Concrete Angel_ by Martina McBride, I altered some of the lyrics to better suit the story but not drastically)

He walked to school every morning. That meant walking through little village streets, where mothers were already busy starting their housework, throwing up clouds of dust and crumbs.

Sometimes he'd turn his face to the smells of breakfast that still lingered, and pretended his own stomach didn't ache with hunger.

_He walks to school with the lunch He packed  
Nobody knows what He's holding back_

None of the children around here wore long sleeves without a good reason. He never wore anything but. It was the only way to hide the bruises. He didn't understand why he felt the strange need to hide them.

On some level, he wanted one of the mothers who saw him every day, walking alone to the school, to ask him why he was covering his arms up like that. He wanted one of them to ask why his father never walked him to school._  
_

_Wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday  
He hides the bruises with a smiling face, oh_

He often watched the other children arrive to school. He wondered why they all looked so happy. He wanted his own mother to walk him to school like theirs did.

But she wasn't there anymore.

The mothers did notice him, of course, a sad, lonely little boy with no parent standing beside him. Hiding around corners like he was scared of being seen. And a lot of them gossiped to one another that they'd heard Kane Jeevas went out drinking every night, leaving his son alone.

The ones who lived nearby whispered that they sometimes heard crying from the house at night.

None of the kids spoke to him, even at so young an age; they could sense something different about him, and didn't want to get sat at the back of class, out of sight most of the time. Not that he was stupid, he was a very bright boy, but he just… felt so tired. He'd sit to write an answer, and his mind would wander to the clock, and how much longer he could stay away from home.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_

The teacher walked up and down the rows, and often paused to look at him.

Of course she'd been taught during training to recognise signs of abuse on a child, the distracted look in his eyes, the fearful jumping at loud noises, the way he covered his arms.

But she didn't think that was enough evidence.

At night, he'd sit alone in a corner of his room, scrubbing at his eyes until they were red-raw. Wanting his mother to be there and hold him, kiss his cheeks and tell him she loved him. Tuck him into the bed and tell him stories about better places.

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
Sometimes He wishes He was never born_

Tell him that she'd never let anyone hurt him.

But she died. And though his grandmother had offered again and again to take the little boy off his hands, Kane Jeevas insisted that he could take care of his own son.

In reality, of course, he was a bully, and Mail was an easy target to take out his rage towards the world that he felt had done him wrong.

_Through the wind and the rain He stands hard as a stone  
In a world that He can't rise above_

He tried so hard to be a good boy for his father. When there was food in the house he'd attempt to make a meal for them both. He stayed very quiet and didn't take up much room, and he never ever begged his dad to pick him up and tuck him in at night, even when he really wanted someone to care about him.

_But his dreams give him wings and He flies to a place  
Where He's loved, concrete angel_

But the meal was always wrong somehow, and he was always in just the corner his dad wanted to sit in, or he was showing off by sitting and reading some book or another, and he was a horrible little brat just for being born.

Sometimes, after stumbling home from the nearest bar after they threw him out, Kane even yelled at the boy that it was his fault his mother had died.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbours hear but they turn out the light_

Across the road a woman heard her neighbour's door slam shut and winced, knowing that meant that Kane Jeevas was back home.

Her husband quietly pulled the curtains and windows shut, hoping to block out the noise of someone being struck.

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it will be too late_

Next door to the house two strong young men (easily strong enough between them to hold Kane Jeevas back) are house-sharing until they get on their feet, they hear the first yell of rage and glance at one another, knowing full well what that noise is. One of them remarks that someone should do something.

It doesn't occur to them that they should do something.

On the other side of the Jeevas house there is a single mother with two little girls. She hears Mail start to let out choking sobs. She bites her lip and hurries to her girls' rooms, tucking them in and kissing them in their sleep, and she thanks the lord that nothing like that will happen to her children.

She never thinks that perhaps someone should stop it happening to _that_ child.

_A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face_

He was very lucky. Matt always said that years later, after councillors and teachers and even Mello had their time to pity him and talk to him about what happened.

Mello never understood how he could say he was lucky.

So Matt took him to a graveyard, and specifically, to the grave of a girl.

He pointed at it and said to Mello, "Her name was Bella, see? See all the little stone angels they carved in it for her?"

Mello had nodded mutely.

"I bet you'd think her parents must have loved her."

_A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot_

Matt shook his head. And he explained that this little girl's mother and father had, in equal share, battered her to death. For no reason other than their own lives were going down the crapper and she was an easy target.

He explained that people saw her every single day, her teachers, her neighbours, even her own grandparents, they all saw her and noticed how sad she seemed, some even saw her deep bruises.  
Not one of them tried to help.

Matt explained that he had been lucky, because his intelligence set him apart, and Watari had rescued him.

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above_

He continued, pausing only to take a shaky breath, Bella wasn't overly intelligent. She was a sweet little girl who never hurt anyone in her life, who liked ponies and whose favourite colour was yellow.

And her short life was spent being afraid of people she should have been able to trust without question. Not one person in her life thought to try and rescue her.

And now she was just another statistic, another number on the list of children murdered by people they wanted to love.

And, Matt whispered, he knew it was hard to step in and say something, but he'd been one of those kids, and during the nights when he cried himself to sleep, wishing he was never born, he wanted nothing more than for someone to make the pain stop.

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved, concrete angel_

Finally, he whispered to Mello, as the tears came and he couldn't stop them for anything in the world, what little family she had either couldn't scrape enough cash together to pay or worse, simply wanted to sweep her under the carpet, as if she'd never happened. They didn't give her a headstone. Just a plain plaque in the ground with a name and a date.

So he'd paid for one for her. He was making good money, hacking for hire, he'd come across her name in one of the lists of statistics, and he didn't want them to be able to forget. He didn't want anyone to forget that once there had been a little girl called Bella, with dark hair in a ponytail, whose favourite colour was yellow and who loved ponies, who was murdered by her parents.

It wasn't right, He mumbled into Mello's comforting shoulder. He had been so, so lucky, but he could have been saved so much sooner, and Bella could have been alive, if just one person had tried to save them from their families.


	48. Disturbed

#48 Disturbed

Near sighed deeply as he lay among his plastic robots. Irritated, he picked one up and pulled its arm off.

He was frustrated. He hadn't been able to make an advance in the Kira case for two days now. Mello was probably gaining on him, and that annoyed him no end. He enjoyed the competition between him and Mello right up to the point where Mello started winning. Then it wasn't fun anymore.

He rolled onto his stomach and knocked over another sentry-bot, then pressed a few keys on his own personal laptop.

His screen flashed up the symbol of a gothic M, flanked by its lower-case partner. Mello and Matt.

He listened to the ringing noises on the end of the line for a few moments, before a voice crackled through any amount of changer technology.

"What the hell do you want, cue-tip?"

Near barely raised an eyebrow at the disguised voice of Mello. He was used to Mello throwing a little personal abuse his way with every conversation. If he were frank, he'd be worried if he didn't call him names.

"I wish to enquire about your investigations, Mello."

There was a pause and Near swore he heard frantic muttering in the background.

"None of your goddamn business." Mello finally replied. "Now piss off, I'm-"

"Mello please don't." Near blurted out all at once. He cursed himself for that lilt of vulnerability in his voice.

Truthfully, he was lonely. Hal was out following Takada, Gevanni was still tailing Mikami and Rester was on one of the other floors of the building, sorting through lists of names.

Mello's smirk was audible. "What was that? Haha, was that the great number one begging for someone to talk to? You little homo Near."

Near bit his lip, if he listened closely he could hear an odd noise in the background, sort of like slurping, but in a rythem, "Considering that my bedroom was next to yours and Matt's back at the house, I would be very careful about whom I accused of homosexual behaviour."

Mello growled down the line. "You shut up, what Me and Matt do is nothing to do with you."

There was a slick, hot sound in the background and Mello clearly covered the microphone to snap something at his companion.

Near frowned, puzzled, "What are you two doing anyway? I keep hearing wet sounds… is your residence leaking?"

"No our- AH!! Ow!!! Matt you stupid… I told you to watch your teeth!!"

A second disguised voice rang down the line, shaking with laughter, "I'm sorry Mells… just how innocent this kid is…"

Near's papery skin flushed red as he realised what those noises had been. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um… Matt…what were you…?"

Matt's ever-cheerful voice chipped in again, "Heh, you're too young to know what we were just doing, but suffice to say you kind of caught us in the middle of something."

Near clenched his eyes shut and squeaked, "I don't want to know!!" before disconnecting the line and scurrying off to shower for several hours under cold water.

-----------

"You know, that was mean even by my standards." Mello commented, nipping a corner from his chocolate bar.

Matt grinned across at Mello and lapped the length of the ice-lolly in his hand. He laughed mock innocence, "Why? What do you think he thought we were doing?"


	49. Theives

#49 Theives

There are many tales told about how the world came into being, and how it has come to this. But one everlasting theme seems to be that humanity came to be how it is because we stole from some superior being. Almost all the stories have it. Intelligence, stolen in an apple, fire kidnapped from the gods.

But never does it occur to the people who tell these legends that the gods might have a better punishment than simply sending thieves to be outcast forever.

Or perhaps, that what was stolen was not wisdom or fire, but something of infinitely more value.

That perhaps in the days before life had really taken hold of the world, a human, tall, skinny and beautiful, crept into the world of the gods and stole an enchanted scroll. And upon that scroll this traitor of all mankind scrawled the names of the gods.

And forty seconds later, they fell, their huge bodies smashing the land into countries, their bones becoming mountains and valleys.

Humanity was freed to govern itself, but at a cost. For with their dying breaths, the gods cursed that one human. Cursed him to be himself a god, but not of their kind. He was cursed to carry that scroll forever, and be forced to choose his own death date.

Some might not think this a curse. But it was, and it was slow. As time rolled past this poor creature, he watched his kind change, and soon their eyes lit with revulsion at the sight of him, as his skin rotted away and he became a monster of bones, never able to die so long as there were years in his scroll.

Every time his death day drew near, and his time began to run out, he would steal yet more years from those who exiled him not only from their homes, but eventually from their very dimension.

He created more like himself. He left small pieces of the ever-full scroll across the world and recruited more men and women. It gave him some pleasure to watch their own skin rot away as they too became monsters.

He gave them each a piece of scroll and watched the poor creatures suffer with their own mortality. Some of them could not bear to steal time from others, and burst into piles of some strange substance that wasn't sand or rust.

Time continued to pass, and that first thief still continued to take what he needed in order to keep living, unable to bring himself to let the time run out, and let himself give in.

He watched the infamous Kira saga play out, and even allowed the boy to become a god, and almost found himself laughing when the boy followed Ryuk like a lost puppy.

And then it all started to go wrong.

He wasn't sure how many hundreds of thousands of years it had been, but finally, the world was running out. The humans were vanishing, escaping to other places unknown or simply dripping dead before the gods of death could harvest them.

Slowly, they began to melt away; the desert of time grew larger day by day, until only he, the first and their king, was left.

He realised, as he threw his scroll away and felt, at last, his body begin to turn to sand, that in some ways, it's a lot harder to live than it is to die.


	50. Truth

#50 Truth

"Would you like to know something interesting, Ryuk?" Light asked as he leant his chair back on two legs, throwing the shinigami's daily apple from one hand to the other.

Ryuk's eyes fixed on the shining fruit. "Sure Light, whatever. Gimme the Apple!"

Light smirked, reverting to throwing the fruit up and down in the air. "I've made an extensive study of the law, and do you know what I've discovered?"

"That it's broken? Gimme!"

Light laughed to himself. "Well yes, but specifically, I've discovered that in court, in order for something to be regarded as the truth, it has to be proven. If there's no evidence, it's not regarded as true. Isn't that weird?"

Ryuk made a desperate dive for the apple, missed, and phased through the wall. A few seconds later his head re-appeared. "Your sister's desk is really messy Light. An yeah, it's messed up, truth has to be proven. Feed the shinigami!"

Light shook his head and took a bite out of it, ignoring Ryuk's groan. "I thought you of all people might find this interesting Ryuk. This means that even if someone's a mass murderer, so long as you can't prove he is, then in the eyes of the law, he's as innocent as you or me."

Ryuk growled. "Me maybe, you're a mean-ass."

Light raised one eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before replying, "No-one can ever prove consistently that I am Kira. That's why I have no need to fear the police or the judicial system, because under their eyes I am and always will be an innocent man." He laughed to himself, "I'm above the law anyway, being that I'll become a god, and anyway, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?"

Ryuk recognised what he was supposed to say here, but he was angry about loosing his apple. "Hey, whatever you need to tell yourself to make it easier to sleep at night." He snapped.

"This isn't about justifying myself!" Light growled. "I have no need to! What I am doing is the right thing to do! Criminals never change and the good people of the world have to suffer because of a broken system that is weighted in favour of the criminals! It'' not right or fair that people who are good and honest and truthful have to suffer because of bad, deceitful liars! You're an idiot Ryuk!"

Ryuk tilted his head and let out a soft chuckle, Light was so funny when he got riled up, his hair messed and his eyes glittered red. "Ya want that to be true? Prove it."

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	51. Late

#51 Late

Angel never really did get the hang of organisation. Unusual for a girl at Wammy's house, her bedroom was a mess, piles of paper covered in sums and half-finished essays littered the place. She often scattered them when she ran to her classes too, the poor thing was only lucky even her half-finished essays were prime examples of her brilliance.

She was notoriously scatterbrained, leaving her glasses in some silly place so she would be sure to remember them, then promptly loosing the things until one of the children or the staff happened across the thick lenses. L would have to lead her about by the hand for the days in between when her vision was blurred.

People sometimes joked that she lost them on purpose, so that she could hold L's hand.

And in every possible way, she was always late. Late handing in work, late running into class, late for meal times, the poor child seemed to live in a perpetual rush. It was no wonder she often looked so tired and frazzled, her long curly red hair scraped back into a ponytail that wouldn't always hold, and certainly didn't make her look neat, and her lop-sided buttons on her blouses, done up in such a hurry that often it looked as though she had dressed in the dark.

When she mumbled about this to L, he'd always kiss her forehead and tell her that so long as she was still Angel, he couldn't care less what peculiar out-of-sync timetable she chose to keep.

He was always so good at reassuring her, when she had doubts about this place and her standing as the first to take over, should anything happen to L. She would whimper that really, she was afraid of the day she would become the new L, because that would mean he was gone, and she'd have to stand on her own. She said she'd run out of time on the cases.

L always shook his head to these concerns, and promised nothing would ever happen to him, that he loved her too much to let her have to live through the cruelty of the world alone.

But of course, he couldn't protect her from the cruelty of the house, when he was away on cases.

The other children would tease her, not enough to get themselves in trouble, but just enough, enough to sow the seeds of doubt and misery, which her intelligent and imaginative mind would nurture into something… dark.

Beyond was the worst, with his little giggles and 'playfully' pinching her arm in places where no-one could see. Angel started to cry into her pillow at night, and her time-keeping got worse.

When L came back she was so happy; those short visits made it all bearable, if only for a little while. She never told, of course, who would have believed that Beyond Birthday, a boy she and L had grown up with could ever mean to harm her?

She didn't even realise at first when she fell pregnant. Why would she? She was used to being late and out-of-sync with the world, and she was tired and depressed most of the time anyway.

It wasn't until Beyond started whispering to her that she was looking chubbier than usual, and her skin was glowing a little, that the thought occurred to her.

One cheap pregnancy test had shaken her little world apart.

Beyond, in the guise of a dear friend, snuck out and brought it for her. He waited out in the hall while she did it, and put an arm around her when she came out with the news.

He stroked her hair as she stood, struck dumb with the shock, and whispered, "It's his, isn't it? What a shame, Angel, he'll want to give up being a detective to look after you and the baby. But nevermind, right? I'm sure he won't blame you, he never could… and certainly he won't resent the baby as it grows up, for taking his life away, I mean."

He followed her to her bedroom, stood in the doorway smiling.

"Oh Angel, what are you going to do? Are you going to tell him? Or are you going to keep quiet and have it adopted? Of course, you're very young, it probably won't survive anyway… even if it did, I doubt your body's up to nine months growing a baby…"

He smirked wider when she started tying the bed sheets into a noose.

"Don't worry Angel… L has me to take over, I was always stronger anyway, wasn't I?"

He moved her chair over for her to stand on, tie the noose to a ceiling beam.

"Don't worry Angel… I'll tell them all you couldn't take the pressure." He purred in a voice like a knife scraping across stone. "No-one will ever know about the baby."

He watched her kick the chair away and counted down the seconds above her head, listening to her choke until she finally gave up.

And then he smirked, and checked the time against the calculation he'd made for her time of death.

He giggled. "Oh look Angel, for the first time ever you're right on time."

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles **and/or** involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	52. Lust

#52 Lust

It starts simply enough. A look held for maybe a second too long, only he would have noticed something so small, being the most observant man in the world helped quite a bit when dealing with attraction.

Slowly, little things only he would have picked up on began to happen. Offers to make his coffee for him, cleaning up his desk around him as he worked; sincere attempts to try harder than usual to succeed. These little tokens of affection possibly not even noticed by Matsuda himself were all clear signs to L.

The problem was that L really didn't think he cared that way for Matsuda. And probably what Matsu himself was feeling was only lust, though god knows L was hardly anyone's idea of a sex object, certainly not in his own experience.

Still, it was nice to find little affectionate marks on his desk, a cupcake saved from teatime or his files organised properly.

L was very careful not to give him any encouragement, to appear almost severe in his attitude to the young officer; it was, after all, a bad idea to get involved with ones subordinates, and anyway, doubtless Matsuda would loose interest eventually, as they all did.

Then one night the idiot got himself into real trouble with the Yotsuba Kira gang. Only Matsuda could have gone through all of that utter rubbish, have come so very close to blowing the entire case and indeed loosing his life and at the end of the day somehow have come out alive and having actually helped.

After securing Light in the surveillance-covered bedroom for the evening, L went to Matsuda's own modest apartment in the building, intent on giving the policeman the biggest telling off of his young life. L was furious, his footfalls sounding even on the thick plush carpet as he made his way down the corridor.

What could have possessed him to try something so risky and stupid? Why couldn't he stay out of harms way so L could keep an eye on him? Why couldn't he just get on with the nice, safe tasks he was set?

He snarled to himself and kicked at the wall, wincing slightly when it was harder than he expected and stubbed his toes.

Idiot Matsu-kun, why couldn't he—

Matsu-kun?

L shook his head. He had to think.

Why was he so worked up? He never usually cared what his subordinates did during cases, it was their lives on the line, after all, and Matsuda had come out of this one okay and with more information than they ever could have gathered alone.

It was the _idea_ that he could have been hurt, or killed. L hated the thought of Matsuda putting himself at risk. Why? What was special about him?

A peachy blush stole across his cheeks as he realised just what it was that was driving him to such anger. Anger and Lust are, after all, very similar emotions, two sides of the same coin, so to speak.

And of course Matsuda had put himself at risk. He was probably tired of his little efforts for L going unnoticed, probably he thought now that L hated him, and that he wasn't very fond of the policeman to begin with, when of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

L could have kicked himself for his own stupidity in not realising that Matsu did this in order to impress him, to try and get a little affection, or at least a smile.

He swallowed, and reached to knock at Matsuda's door, the intent gone from his mind and coal-coloured eyes.

The door opened slowly.

L's eyes nearly popped out of his head, Matsuda was wearing only a towel around his waist.

He blushed, "Oh! Sorry Ryuzaki, I was in the shower…"

L shook his head, and walked in, forcing Matsuda to back up. He bit his lip before mumbling between hushed lips, "I don't want you to think, or to speak. You did something very stupid tonight to try and impress me. You should never have done that. I put you doing safe work because I couldn't bear of seeing you in danger."

Matsuda blushed and spluttered, "Wha?! Ryuzaki, I-"

"I am aware of your feelings for me," L continued, pulling his baggy shirt off over his head. "I wish to tell you that you don't need to take stupid risks to gain my affections, you already have them." His hand went to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper and letting them drop from his skinny, pale hips. "Now take them."

Matsuda couldn't refuse the offer.

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	53. Sickness

#53 Sickness

She walked down the street, her neatly bobbed hair bouncing slightly on her head as she nervously checked each house number, the butterflies in her stomach growing more intense as she neared _the_ house.

Her small, pale hands gripped the basket she carried so tightly her knuckles went white. She slowly pressed the doorbell and brushed at her school uniform.

Doubts suddenly entered her mind and she half-considered running off down the path, leaving the home-made meal she'd spent the whole afternoon making on the doorstep, but then it might not be found or he might think that someone else had left it behind…

Too late for her to run, the door opened… and god, it was him. The handsomest boy in the whole class. Soichiro… and there was the cast on his arm, from an accident on the sports field.

He smiled. "Sachiko?"

Her face flushed red and she shoved the basket forwards, babbling out, "I made this for you, because you're hurt!"

Slightly puzzled, he took the basket from her shaking hands and nodded, "Thank you Sachiko." He answered, but she was already dashing down the path, blushing crimson.

"Lini, Sachiko, do you take Yagami Soichiro to be your lawful wedded husband, to love, honour and obey, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?"

Sachiko felt like she could barely breathe, and not only because the dress her sisters had forced her into felt at least a whole size too small. She was marrying him, her, the shy little girl who wasn't much good at school, was marrying Soichiro, the boy she'd been in love with from the moment she saw him.

And he _loved_ her too. He'd gone down on one knee and asked her to be his wife and it was all really happening.

She could barely squeak out the words "I do."

"Sir, there's a call from the hospital for you!"

Soichiro bolted at those words, he didn't need to answer the phone, he already knew in his heart what this call was about. Sachiko, his beautiful wife, the woman whom he could not live without, had been rushed into the hospital.

He arrived just in time. It wasn't a long labour, as it happened.

He arrived just in time to see his son being born. Just in time to be the first person to hold this squealing little red lump that he suddenly loved more than he thought ever possible.

He showed the child to Sachiko as she rested. He told her how proud he was of her.

She whispered back that the boy should be called Light, because he was the brightest thing in her life apart from Soichiro himself.

They both remarked on his small, intelligent face, and how they were certain he would one day change the world.

Misfortunes came so fast, and they were split by so few moments of happiness. Sachiko almost died herself when she heard of Soichiro's heart attack, convinced it was Kira.

And then suddenly Sayu, her precious baby Sayu was kidnapped, because of the danger of her father and brother's jobs.

Suddenly she wasn't the same girl. Oh, she recovered from the shock slowly, but something in her was gone forever. Sachiko hated that, she hated Kira. He was the cause of all her precious family's ills.

She hated him more so when she was informed that her beloved Soichiro had been killed in the line of duty.

Light wouldn't allow her to see the body, or have an open casket for the funeral, as she so wanted to see him one last time.

Something in her told her, as she watched Soichiro's coffin being lowered, that Light had changed the world all right, but not for the better, and from now on, she should keep away from her son.

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	54. Babble

#54 Babble

How we met again after I left Wammy's? Oh… it was… well, almost like magic, you know? I rang him, sent himt the plane ticket and told him I'd meet him at the airport.

So there I was in a crowd of people, half my face bandaged up, that huge red coat on to try and cover up the mess I was in, in a bad mood because obviously I couldn't bring my weapons into an airport. Even now I feel naked without a gun.

Anyway, the plane disembarked and the crowd of people around me gathered, everyone was really excited to see the people they loved walk out of that baggage claim area, and in the commotion, I got bumped into. On my scarred side.

That really goddamn hurt. So I started shoving back, I wanted to get to the front of the crowd so I could see my Matt again.

My Matt. My sidekick. My little ace in the hole. No-one ever expected me to make friends at Wammy's, I was a right little psychopath even then, and I wanted to hurt everyone who might be a threat to my position. But Matt was different.

He was perfect, in fact. Because he was third, and didn't want to be anything else. He blocked the way for any other threats to my power and left me free to focus on Near. And he's not useless, far from it. When we were 15 he hacked into MI5's databanks and found the number for the queen's private phone line. Later on when poor old Roger was trying to stop Matt being arrested for making fart noises down the phone at the monarch, Matt said he did it to see if he could.

That kid can hack anything. And while his eyesight's crap, his actual hand-eye co-ordination is second to none. I've known him best L in tennis matches because of it.

Sorry, I'm getting off the point.

So I'm there, shoving at these fat idiots around me, and I feel this sleeve brush past mine.

It was electric, that touch. I don't know how I knew, but I did.

And I turned around, and saw that he had turned too. He'd felt that strange sensation too.

By all the gods, he was beautiful. He'd grown up and turned into an Adonis. My little dork actually had muscles and… I don't know why I noticed this of all things, but the beginnings of five o'clock shadow on his chin.

I remember the look on his face. He looked so… happy and surprised. And he said… in that voice that I missed so much…

"Mello?"

It was like hearing music.

~*~*~

First time I saw him again was… weird. Well, we had been apart a hell of a long time, I knew he'd look different, be different, I was prepared for that. Hell, I knew I'd changed too. Couldn't wait to show him the scrawny little brat that he somehow thought worthy of being his friend had grown into a (if I do say so myself) pretty good-looking guy. Mello had always been gorgeous but on the plane I felt like I was catching him up somewhat. Average height, slim build (and a few muscles too, thanks to the wii! [Thanks Nintendo… wow, brackets within brackets, lol]) hair's still a mess but my skin finally cleared up. There were even some girls on the plane who kept glancing at me and giggling. Mello would have been proud.

I'd been prepared for him to have changed. God alone knew what he'd been upto since he left. I had some suspicions though, (hacked the FBI for fun, Mello was 23rd on their most wanted list… heh, until I did some 'editing' anyway) I didn't have any problems with it, we all do what we have to, to get by.

So there I was, waiting to grab my bag from that weird little conveyer belt thing, getting ready to wrestle my way past the fat-ass family who seem to be on every flight I ever go on, blocking up the aisle and making noises and smells, and trying to ignore the group of giggling girls who'd decided they just loved my accent…

…actually I'll just skip to the moment, shall I? No point going on about this crap.

So I walk out and its like an explosion of people out there in the airport, and I can't see anyone who looks like they might be Mello.

So I freak a little bit, and decide to get through the mass of people and see if I can find him from the outside of the hoarde.

So I'm pushing my way through… and some dick head bumps my arm and I almost drop my cigs from my pocket. I span around to give him a few words (words like 'Off' and 'Bugger' ) and saw a flash of perfect blonde hair.

And big blue eyes.

I'd been prepared for him to be different. Not for him to… be that.

He looked so tired and pathetic… half his beautiful face was bandaged up. He was all wrapped up in a big, cheap red coat. Mello would never have been seen dead in it before.

My poor Mello…

The world had treated him so badly.

I could see for a moment that it hurt… that I was good-looking now, and he was reduced to that.

SO I did the only thing I could do for him. I smiled, to show him he was the best thing I'd ever seen (because he is, really) and said "Mello?"

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!  
I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	55. Lies

#55 Lies

Tsuki was a brilliant child, and as such she spent mush of her time asking questions of her uncles and parents about how the world around her worked. She also had a strange, strong sense of self-purpose, attempting to fill her days not with toys and fairytales as most little girls her age did, but with facts and figures.

Misa often told L she was worried about their daughter because of this, but L would brush off her concerns by simply telling her that Tsuki was a great deal brighter than most children and really, the best thing they could do for her was to allow her access to the knowledge she was inclined to seek.

So it happened that it was a rare day when Tsuki would not be spied in the investigation room of L's building, curled up at the foot of her father's chair, reading some book or another with dense writing and no pictures. L would sometimes mention that her little black pigtails were tickling his toes and she would lower her head closer to the page without a word.

Some days, when her father was out in the world solving crimes that required his presence, she would instead sit between Matt and Mello's own desks, never so close as she was with L, but she seemed content in their presence, and never bothered by their conversations about criminals and the clicking of their keyboards.

One day, Matt happened to glance down at her and noted with some concern how thick the book was, and how small the printed words. Something inside him told him to say something, distract her if only for a little while from the logical world she immersed herself in.

As it was, only one way of distracting her came to his mind.

"You should put that book down for a while, moonbeam, your eyes'll be worse than mine if you're not careful."

(matt was in the habit of giving people nicknames, Moonbeam was Tsuki's own 'Matt name' as she called it)

The little girl looked up at his with her great black eyes and blinked twice, "But I want to finish it. There's a fascinating study of…"

Matt groaned to himself, "I'm sure it'd really interesting, but don't you ever get bored of all that? Want to hear real stories? With Dragons in them and stuff?"

The incredulous look on her small face made Matt wince as Tsuki spoke. "I don't want to hear stories that aren't true, there's so such thing as dragons, or fairies. Those are superstitions brought about by-"

Matt cut in quickly, he'd had plenty of experiences of Tsuki's long lectures. It was as though she wanted the world to know of how intelligent she was, but didn't know when to stop. "Ok, Ok, I get it, no dragons or fairies… why not?"

L's daughter pouted and folded her arms. Suddenly she was the mirror of her mother in a sulk. "Because making things like that up is lying and lying is wrong."

Mello sniggered from his own place at the computer bank. "She makes a good point… a weird one, but it's good."

Matt, however, was not so easily swayed, and in one swift movement picked Tsuki from the floor and placed her on his lap. "All right then, I'll tell you a real story, one that actually happened. Will that be enough to keep you from the book for a while?"

She was so surprised at the sudden movement from floor to knee that the little girl could only nod.

"Ok, so… call it 17 years ago, but it was probably a bit more than that, I was a kid about your age…"

Tsuki's eyes widened a little. "Uncle Matt was _my_ age?"

Suddenly feeling as though he was older than everyone in the _world_ was, Matt continued, "Yeah. I lived in Spain when I was a little boy, in this tiny little village by the sea. It was so small we all knew each other and shared everything. No-one ever had any reason to fear." He cleared his throat, "And one thing I always did with my mum was go to the beach after school finished for the day, and help her pick up chunks of Peridot. Do you know what that is?"

Tsuki nodded, "It's a green gemstone. Who left it on the beach?"

"No-one, it was made in the rocks and the sea washed it up for us. We'd pick bags of it, and there was a man in the village who could polish it up and sell it to a proper jewellery maker, so we made a little money out of it. Only mum and me ever went to pick it because there were a lot of little caves where it tended to get stuck, and I was the smallest boy in the village, the only one who could ever fit in those caves."

Tsuki's eyes were wide and fascinated, totally absorbed in the story now. Matt could almost see it playing out behind her eyes.

"One day, I got stuck." He said casually. "as I was climbing into this particularly narrow cave, I got stuck fast. One end in the cave and the other out. I was scared out of my mind, the tide was coming in you see and I knew that soon the cave would fill up with water and I'd be drowned. I screamed and screamed."

She gasped, "Didn't anyone try to help?"

Matt nodded, "I heard afterward everyone in the village was down there, but at the time I thought everyone must have run off home, I couldn't hear their voices through the cracks in the rock, certainly not over the sound of the water starting to fill the cave." He paused a moment to think. "I remember how I saw the pebbles of peridot floating closer towards me and I thought that at least I'd drown somewhere pretty."

Tsuki bounced slightly, enchanted, "And then? And then?"

Matt smiled, "There was a big cracking noise, part of the cave entrance broke from around me and I popped out like a cork." He nodded in a worldly fashion, "Someone thought to break the cave wall from around me enough to let me wriggle out."

With that, he lowered the child back to the floor, "Go find your uncle Near and see if he'll let you play something, eh?"

Tsuki nodded with rapt eyes. "And Uncle Matt will tell me more stories tomorrow?"

Matt nodded and watched her leave, smiling to himself before Mello remarked, "Peridot doesn't get formed on the beaches near where you lived, its from volcanic islands. And as I recall you weren't that small a kid."

Matt shrugged, "What do a few lies hurt?"

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!  
I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	56. Clothes

#56 Clothes

(again set in the Fairy-tale Alternate Universe established in drabble #37 Cave)

The hermit king sat awkwardly in his throne, not used to the grand chair, he far preferred his comfortable armchair, hidden away in one of the corner towers of his fine castle, alas if he wished to relieve his people's terror of the wicked Wizard Kira who tormented his lands, he would have to make such an appearance.

The wizard was relentless, first he had slain only men who were to be imprisoned… then he had begun killing the rich men and women of the land, with declarations that they were the ones who caused the poor people pain and suffering. And because this madman could not be caught, many were choosing to flee.

The king was only lucky the people of the court already thought him strange, and did not question his decision to hold a masquerade ball during this time of unease.

Calmly, he turned and surveyed the knights of the realm, the men whom he had taken into his deepest confidence, and allowed to see his face. One in particular, he lingered upon, Sir Yagami.

"Where is your son, Soichiro?" King L asked lowly, his eyes fixed on the dancing lords and ladies before him.

Soichiro shifted, "I didn't think he should have to stand guard here sir, he's a young and noble man, the ladies of the court desired him to dance with them."

King L nodded, making calculations in his mind.

With the sudden appearance of a second Kira, whom many were referring to as Kira's apprentice, it would not have been wise for the young Light Yagami to be too caring for one particular maiden. He was under deepest suspicion… if a woman appeared who might be so enamoured as to kill for him…

"Your majesty?"

L jerked, his eyes awakening behind his colourful mask. It was Sir Matsuda who had interrupted his thoughts. A young man who had gained his noble place more though dumb luck than through actually having any valour in his heart.

"Yes?" The king snapped irritably. This ball was supposed to bring Light's true colours to the surface, or at least tell the king if his suspicions were true, but the boy seemed to have vanished in the crowd of colours and lights.

"Your Majesty, Light is over there, see?" He pointed one gloved hand to a distant place on the dance floor, and sure enough, there was the young squire.

But it was not the young man who held the king's eye. It was the woman.

Her hair was as golden and long as the sunrise, tied upon her head with the reddest roses, but they could not hope to match the reddness of her lips. Her lips, forming a perfect lovers bow, which even now smiled up at the squire.

She wore all black, but no-one could believe she was in mourning, so delicately and daintily the lace of her gown highlighted her young and fragile body, stark against her snow-white skin. L regretted instantly calling a masquerade ball, for he would have given his kingdom to see her eyes.

Without a word he rose, and slowly shuffled across the floor, the dancers parting out of curiosity and respect for their king.

Finally, he came upon the handsome couple, Squire Light Yagami and this mystery woman. Light instantly bowed his head slightly, though L could see in his eyes he meant none of the false respect he showed.

"Your majesty." He said softly.

L nodded briefly, his eyes fixed on the lady. "I was hoping, Light, that I might be so rude as to steal your partner." Without waiting for the young man to speak, the king seized the young woman's hands. "May I have this dance?"

She gasped, glancing to Light, but clearly saw no help there, and forced a smile.

"If my king insists." She squeaked. Her voice was like angels harps.

L grinned in a slightly manic way. "I do." He nodded across the room to the musicians, who had paused to watch this odd display, and they began to play once more.

As they danced, alone on the floor, L whispered, "I know who you are now."

The woman's footing slipped slightly, but she recovered well. "Do you now, my king?"

"Yes… you are in mourning. I know this from the locket you wear, it contains a lock of hair, as blonde as your own, I take it you have lost a family member recently."

She nodded. "Anyone could tell you I am in mourning from my gown. Black does not suit those who don't weep for their loved ones."

"On the contrary, I believe you carry it most successfully." He replied, bringing her closer. "Your great beauty tells me you are of noble birth."

"Yes." She answered. "You are indeed as clever as they say. But you could have surmised that too, from my gown, it's hardly cheap."

The king shrugged smoothly, "I suppose. But here is something that I have surmised on my own, without the help of your magnificent dress."

She smiled sweetly. "Do tell me, my king."

With a confidence stride, the king stepped back from this young woman, "You are the mysterious Princess Misa of my neighbouring kingdom, and what is more…" here; he lowered his eyes with a sadness he could not hide. "I fear you are Kira's apprentice."

Misa squeaked in horror as the crowd gasped, and the knights came running to apprehend the girl.

Light ran forwards and grasped the King's shoulder; "Surely you're mistaken! Misa is no wicked woman, you can't subject her to this!"

L answered in a whisper, just low enough for Light alone to hear.

"Were she not in love with you, I would do my utmost to see her freed." He sighed. "Sadly, she loves you, I can see that… and while she loves you, I fear she will never wear anything but black."

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	57. Desire

#57 Desire

It was desire which led L through his life.

Desire to see justice for his murdered family which made him become a detective.

Desire to ensure that no-one else should ever feel the same as he did that night made him stay a detective through all the awful cases that made his heart ache.

Desire to prove that good could still triumph over evil, to prove that no matter what the cause, murder is wrong and ultimately, to prove he was smarter, drove him to chase Kira to the grave.

It was desire to live that first made him allow Kira… ruler of the new world, god to all, to chain him, strip him of his identity and make him his pet. A creature to be tormented at the god's will.

He allowed this in order to live.

And slowly the pain, the humiliation… it began to seep into him. It began to break him. Kira's insults began to take hold of his mind until even he believed they were true. And this went on until there was no L left in this poor, frail, battered body.

He desired to please his master and his god. He was impassive when he watched his heirs be similarly humiliated. What purpose was there to his life but to make Kira happy?

And then one day… one day that L would never truly understand… Light came back.

Kira had looked upon his pet and for the first time in years, seen him as L again. And he had realised there was no fun in torturing this broken creature.

He had reminded L of what he used to be. Of what they had both been, of the days they spent together, on the trail of a killer, the unspoken comradeship they shared.

He had brought L, kicking and screaming, back from the darkest recesses of his mind. And that was a mistake.

Because now, although Kira was clearly Light once again, and treating L with some small kindness', L was still playing the part of a devoted pet.

Behind his eyes, only one desire filled L's now mostly-deranged mind.

Light could pretend all he wanted. He could tell L he loved him really, that he'd made a world free of crime and all he wanted was for L to realise how wonderful that was… it didn't matter.

Once upon a time, Light's whispered endearments might have meant something to L. He might have loved him back. He might have dropped all suspicions. He might have done anything.

Light didn't realise how perilous his new world had become, the day he brought L back from the dark place his pet had stored that personality.

Because L knew precisely what he wanted. He knew the only thing in the world that could make a difference or change anything was in his mind and hands.

His deepest desire…

To murder Kira.

"L?"

L shakes his head and smiles endearingly up at the false god on his throne. "Yes, master?"

====NOTICE===

The last five chapters of this Drabble Challenge are as yet without titles!

I've decided to hold a contest to fill them in.

Anyone whom wishes to enter may submit either a piece of artwork or writing.

The art must be of something (an event or OC) from either of the two drabble challenges I've written.

Written submissions must be either continuations of drabbles or involve an OC from the drabble challenges

The winners will be given the chance to choose the title and is they so wish, pairing/events of the final five drabbles to this collection.

I will keep posting this notice until chapter 95 just to make sure newcomers to the fiction see it.

Please send the submissions to me in a PM with the header 'Contest submission' or email me at the address in my author profile.

Good luck! : ) -Esk


	58. Tears

#58 Tears

My father's coffin is slowly lowered into the ground.

He used to be the only thing I aspired to be. A cop, someone who protects the weak and fights for people who can't fight, who captures the bad guys.

Heh. I was aiming way too low.

Now look at me, dad, I'm a god. Oh, no-one knows it yet, but I am.

Soon, soon the time will come to reveal myself to my followers, and then who will dare stand in my way?

Because of my father, part of my opposition is gone already. The infamous Mello is dead. Near will follow soon.

Matsuda was one of the pallbearers. The fool is weeping quietly in a corner now, hoping no-one will notice.

Oh, there goes Aizawa, patting the idiot's shoulder and trying to make him feel better.

Mother's around here somewhere, I think she's making coffee for the mourners and trying to distract herself from what's happened. She talked earlier to me about moving herself and Sayu out of the city. Apparently Sayu's not recovering well and father's death has just set her back.

I am sorry for my father having to die. But it had to happen.

If the explosion hadn't killed him, I would have written his name. He knew too much, he had the eyes… he…

A thought strikes me.

His dying words were about how happy he was… to see that I had numbers over my head. To see that I truly was not Kira, at least in his eyes.

Had he been smarter he would have known I could have found a way around it.

Ide's gone to take his turn comforting Matsuda now. Pft, I wonder when they're planning on coming out exactly? I'm pretty sure everyone in the office already knows anyway.

My father… even in his death, he just needed to know that I wasn't a murderer.

Well I'm not. I kill bad people, and those who get in my way, that's how it must be.

His grave is very understated. Its what he would have wanted, simple, his name and two dates. It's covered in flowers.

People keep coming and offering me sympathy. I just brush it off, let them think I'm the strong and silent mourner, the only son who's going to take care of his mother and sister.

Christ, Matsuda's coming over.

"Light," he mumbles, placing a hand on my shoulder, "You know it's ok to be sad."

I sigh heavily, "I know Matsuda… I just don't want to look weak in front of everyone."

"You won't though, he is… was your father."

I can tell he's not going to leave until he gets some tears. Quite a challenge for my acting skills.

I close my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. Try to think of something sad…

Something that broke my heart, anything will do.

The look on his face… the look of relief that once and for all he knew I wasn't kira. Because he'd been doubting it… he'd been… he thought I was capable of…

Suddenly, I don't have to fake my tears.

====NOTICE===

The contest has been cancelled due to lack of entries.


	59. Intoxicated

#59 Intoxicated

Matsuda was drinking.

More precisely, he was _drunk_.

Even more precisely, he was out-of-his-head, sleep-with-anyone drunk on the booze L had seen fit to put in the mini-fridge. Most likely just to see what would happen and relieve the monotony.

And currently he had his slobbering, none-too-subtle sights set on Misa, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat as his drunken gaze swept up and down her dainty little body.

"Heheh… You have pretty legs Misa-misa." He slurred, leaning forwards, causing the poor blonde model to shrink back along the sofa, pouting and grabbing Light's sleeve as soon as he was within reach.

"Light-kun…" she whimpered in a squeaky voice, intended to make all men pity her to the point of protecting her from everything. All men save Light 'Imagay' anyway. He winced slightly and tugged his arm free.

Matsuda, for his own drunken part in this tableau giggled and burst out with, "You sound like a chipmunk!"

Misa squeaked once more, then narrowed her pretty blue eyes into a glare and snapped, "Matsu is not Misa's friend anymore!" before flouncing out of the office in a huff of lace and leather.

Light smirked slightly and glanced across to L, hunched in front of his computer as always, "You should get Matsuda drunk more often L, it's one way of making Misa leave that won't mean I have to put up with her yelling at me in that god-awful voice."

L didn't even look up, merely chewed his thumbnail and mumbled, "Mmm. I would not be thanking me yet, Light-kun."

Light tilted his head, "What? Why no-AGH MATSUDA!! DID YOU JUST _LICK ME?_!"

L barely suppressed the smirk that crept across his face, and fought desperately with the urge to turn around as he listened to the following conversation:

"Mm… Light tastes delish… delic…deb… yummy."

"Matsuda that's gross!! I… GET OFF ME!!"

"NEVER!"

Then there was a yell like a scalded cat, and L found himself being spun in his chair as Light used him as a human matsuda-sheild.

Matsuda wobbled over, giggling slightly, "Come on Lighty-witey-kun, you might like it if you try it…"

Light snarled, "I'm quite sure I will never enjoy you drunkenly raping me, now back off!"

"Lol… you said back. That sounds like bum."

Light blinked. "Did you just _say_ Lol? What the hell is the point of… and… just what have you drunk anyway, floor cleaner?!"

Matsuda merely giggled at this and tried to advance further. Light moved away at the same time, keeping L on his office-chair as a shield in front of him.

"Lighty… haven't you even thought about it…?"

That caused Light to pause. L made a note of this for later investigation, but then Light seemed to hit on a way out of this.

With a yell of "Take L, he bends further!" Light shoved the chair towards the drunken Matsu-beast and made a mad dash for the door.

He got about halfway across the room before the chain that kept him tethered to the detective ran out, hitched, and sent him hurtling face-first to the floor, effectively knocking him unconscious.

L calmly moved his chair back to the desk and got on with his work, choosing to ignore the sounds of Matsuda doing things to Light's unconscious body.

He'd probably have enjoyed it if he was conscious anyway. L reasoned.


	60. Happiness

#60 Happiness

You know what happiness is?

It's all relative to what you know. Some people don't have anything, and some of them are happier than any rich man.

Plenty of people before the revolution of Kira would have said they were happy with the world. All right, it wasn't perfect. I was one of L's apprentices, I know how crappy the world can be.

But you know what? People were happy, and the place seemed to be working somewhat. It wasn't perfect, but what is?

And then Kira came along. He started killing off the criminals. I'm not saying that's wrong. In some ways I agree with it… but just the idea of agreeing with kira makes me sick to my stomach.

People started getting scared. Those who didn't agree with him died.

And whatever happiness people say they have now, in the dictatorship Light Yagami created, it's fake.

Happiness isn't about being forbidden to do evil, under pain of death. That's some kind of sick slavery of the mind.

…Look at me, arguing with myself about good and evil and happiness. Idiot.

But… it's not right.

And you're not telling me there aren't still people miserable in the world under Kira's rule?

There's anyone who ever attended Wammy's house. Kira hunted them down one by one… the poor kids. He knew they'd rise up against him if he wasn't quick.

He sent his soldiers in and they destroyed the house. Scattered the kids like mad mice. He wrote each name down.

Except for the top three.

N, M, M. Near, Mello, Matt.

Matt…

My little ace-in-the-hole, Matt… he was supposed to run… when he heard them coming for me he was supposed to press the master button that would delete all our information and then run like hell, find a safe place to hide, change his name and appearance as much as he could. We went over the plan so many times…

But...

I was fighting them off. Killed a few of those damn soldiers… but there were so many…

And then Matt burst in and shot down a few of his own. It gave me time to reload. I screamed at him to run.

He didn't. He stayed with me. He refused to leave me. He said he was making the choice between living free without me, and captive with me, and he loved me too much to live without, in any life.

See… that was happiness to him. Being with me. Even in the damn cell as we waited for judgement, naked and cold, humiliated for Kira's amusement, he would whisper softly that so long as he had me that was all he needed to be happy.

The idiot… he wanted so little. He wanted someone to care about him, whom he could love.

Kira figured that out though.

He split us up. Sent Matt to be a slave to that fanatical murderer Mikami. My poor, beautiful Matt…

Sent me to some fat director who helped spread the word. I don't care, he can do what he wants to me, I'm just waiting for death.

I used to fight back. I really did, kicked and bit and scratched. I got punished for it, but I kept going.

Then one day Mikami came over. He was laughing when he told me…

Matt killed himself. Snuck a knife into his cell and slit his wrists. Apparently he was delusional in the throes of death. Mumbling about saving the world… and Me.

My Matt. My Matt who wanted so little out of his miserable life, who wanted only to try and save me.

It doesn't matter anymore, Matt. I'm just going to lay here and take whatever this monster dishes out… I would follow you in death, but I'm too afraid to make the cut.

I suppose I'm willing myself to death. I can feel, every day, my body shutting itself down a little more.

Try and tell me I'm happy, in Kira's perfect world.

Tell me all those kids he killed would be happy in this world.

Tell me L is happy, chained as he is to Light's throne, being made to perform at Kira's whim. Tell me Near's happy, where-ever he is, being tortured.

Tell me Matt was happy, and that was why he went insane with longing for love and killed himself.

Tell me I'm happy, laying here in a cold cell, feeling all my vital organs begin to slow as I wish and pray for death to take me to whatever waits.

Please, try and tell me this is happiness.


	61. Pinecone

#61 Pinecone

"L… what if you die?"

L stopped in the doorway of Near's room.

Near hadn't spoken to him since he had announced to the house that he had been asked to join the Kira case, and unfortunately, he would have to go away to Japan, maybe for years. All the other children had come to him over the passing weeks as he made preparations to leave the house and begged him to stay, so desperately the young geniuses loved their idol.

But Near hadn't said a word.

Mello had thrown a fit and clung to L's leg and held on for days before being reassured and removed.

But Near had just quietly and calmly remained in his pearl-coloured bedroom, among his plushies and robots.

It was the last day before he left, and L was making the effort to visit each of the children, to say goodbye.

Near hadn't said anything. He'd offered the small albino boy a hug but he hadn't moved, so L didn't force affection on him.

It was only as he walked to the door that the little boy finally squeaked out "L…what if you die?"

L froze in the door. Of course he'd known it was a possibility, but he had, until now, preferred not to think about it, not to think about leaving this world with so much left to do, not think about leaving all these children alone in the world, no gaurdian… he knew there was Roger, and Watari, of course, but the kids looked up to _him_. Some of them saw him as their older brother.

Others, like Near, saw him as a father.

"Near…" he sighed. "..I will do my utmost not to die during this case, but… you know there's a chance."

Near nodded slowly. "…What if you die then? What will happen to the house? To… to the others?"

L slowly walked back to Near's bed and sat heavily next to him. "If I die… Watari will delete all the case files I have accumulated about Kira, the only copies will be sent to Roger's computer before a pre-set program erases the hard drives of all my databases. Those case files will be sent to…"

Near shook his head, clutching his plushie panda tight. "No, not 'what will happen with the case', 'What will happen with… with us?'"

L felt his heart wrench in half at the sight of those soft pink eyes blinking back tears. His little Near was struggling not to cry, struggling not to act like any small child loosing someone they loved would.

"Near…" L sighed, and looked around the room. His eyes rested on Near's shelf, covered in robots, toys and other small things Near had discovered and become fascinated with.

One of them was a large pinecone, about the only natural thing in the room, looking out-of-place among the plastic and plush.

He reached and took the item down, turning it over in his hands. "Near, do you know that this is?"

"It's a pinecone." Near muttered darkly, giving L a look of 'I'm a genius.'

L nodded, "Yes Near, but it's also a collection of seeds… and they're all going to grow into trees."

Near frowned.

"And those seeds don't need their tree to grow, they can do it on their own."

Near blinked. "… I think I understand what you mean L…" he took the pinecone and examined it.

L smiled and walked once more towards the door.

"But L… I'm not a pinecone." Near squeaked.

L pretended not to have heard. He didn't know how else to explain that when he died, Near would be on his own.


	62. Aliens

#62 Aliens

"Haha! Yes! Another highscore!!"

Mello gave a warning growl from his place on the sofa, where he was spread out, feet resting on an armrest, laptop on his chest and arms awkwardly bent as he typed his slow progress through the investigation.

This progress wasn't being helped by the sounds of Matt, cheerfully hammering away at the controller of his latest console, and by the sounds of it, winning without exception. Of course. The game hadn't been built that could take Matt on.

"Woohoo! I rule all! Mini-wave in celebration of me!" Matt whooped from in front of the t.v, waving his arms wildly like a possessed octopus.

Mello gave another snarl, and this time backed it up with a snap of, "Shut up! I'm working!" he glared at his red-haired best friend/sidekick/lover. "Remember that? It's that thing you do in between being irritating!"

Matt turned and smiled playfully.

Mello never could get his head around how exactly Matt had managed to grow up without loosing any of his child-like charm, the thing that had drawn the young Mello (always miles ahead of his age group) to the little boy.

Matt winked one eye behind those sheets of yellow plastic, "Aw come on Mells, Space invaders is a classic, and this remake rocks!"

Mello's icy glare didn't change. "I don't care what stupid game you're wasting time on, just shut up when I'm working."

Matt's smile faded to a pout. "But you're always working… it wouldn't kill you to take a break once in a while yanno." He mumbled, before turning back to the game.

Mello moved the laptop to the floor, and grabbed Matt's shirt, yanking him around. "Do you seriously not remember what evil we're fighting here?! This is _Kira_ you dumb piece of-"

Mello stopped. He stopped because Matt was suddenly trembling, eyes tightly shut and whole body tensed against blows.

He bit his lip and mentally kicked himself for not remembering all the reasons why he could never, ever hit Matt.

His abusive childhood that meant he always assumed someone was out to get him, even someone he loved.

His strange chemical imbalance that caused him to feel, hear and see things far stronger than normal people. Ordinary yelling could send him temporarily deaf, those goggles were the only thing that kept him from being distracted by bright colours. Playful slaps brought him out in bruises.

And he never _meant_ to sound so flippant about the case… it was just… it was the only way he could get by. He kept saying anyone who had to concentrate on that for too long would go mad.

Slowly Mello brought his hand to Matt's cheek, and stroked low circles. "Matty, it's ok…I'm sorry…"

Before Mello's befuddled eyes Matt's body untensed, and he nuzzled the hand that stroked his face. Like a puppy, Mello thought, a very lonely puppy.

Mello sighed deeply. "…You really want me to take a break, don't you?"

Matt nodded weakly. "You need to…"

The blonde sighed and slowly moved from his place on the cracked leather sofa to sit beside Matt in front of the tv.

"Show me how to play this then." He said sharply. "And if I win, you have to let me see your eyes."

Matt blinked behind his goggles. "You can see them."

"I meant without the yellow in front of them, dumbass. Come on, which one of those octopus things am I?"

Matt stifled a giggle. "None, you're the earth defender down there." He pointed at the square dot at the bottom of the screen.

Mello groaned, "What!? You play that thing?! What button do I press to stop this game sucking?"

This time the red-head burst out laughing, before pointing to one of the buttons on the controller. "That fires your laser, you have to kill all the aliens before they reach the bottom."

Mello sighed and prodded the button a few times, "This is hardly a challenge, Matt, they're not even taking evasive acti- what the crap?! They sped up!"

"Yeah, they do that when you kill enough of them. Keep firing!"

Several minutes later and Mello was down to one invader and firing wildly into the air.

"Its going too fast!! How the crap do you do this?!"

Matt flailed wildly behind him, "Fire at where it's _going_ to be!"

Too late, the game played its death music and the last invader hit the ground.

Mello growled in frustration, "God damn it!! You actually enjoy this game?!"

Matt patted his shoulder, "Killing aliens is fun… anyway, it's always hard to get the last one."

Mello pouted furiously, "But… but I wanted to see your eyes!!"

Matt's head tilted, his shaggy red hair flopping around his head, very much like puppy ears. "Oh…" he glanced at the score on the screen. "Well… since you got the second highest score on the board… and if you promise to take a break…"

Mello turned and watched as Matt got to his feet, slowly walking across the room to their bedroom. He tugged his gloves off and dropped them haphazardly on the floor, then that fuzzy vest. He paused a moment to tug his shirt off and Mello gulped, admiring the red-head's toned back muscles.

Oh god, and then he heard Matt's belt buckle being undone and a second later a zip being pulled down. Matt's jeans hit the floor and he calmly stepped out of them and his boots at the same time.

Then went the mario-patterned boxers that Mello swore he'd burn one day, though at that precise moment his thoughts were more occupied with admiring the perfectly toned ass in front of him.

Finally, he watched Matt remove the goggles and calmly place them on a side-table.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Matt glanced over his shoulder at the blonde. He smiled in that child-like way, and winked one perfect, gorgeous emerald eye.

"Coming?" he purred.

Mello suddenly didn't mind the thought of taking a break anymore.


	63. Illness

#63 Illness

"Gevanni, I want you to touch the notebook."

I have to ask him to repeat himself, which he hates.

He wants me to touch the book, thought we know that touching it might reduce life span… or was that one of the fake rules? I can't remember.

Still, I knew the risks when I joined up… I just… it's hard to comprehend that I may well be taking my life into my own hands.

With a gulp, I follow Mikami into the gym.

It feels like hours, every few seconds I check my watch and discover that it's been mere seconds, and its not yet nine o'clock.

At Nine… he's always on the machines by nine at the latest… then I'll have 30 minutes, almost exactly. 30 minutes to break into his locker and touch that notebook.

Or it could be simpler than that. 30 minutes to live.

Nine. At last.

I gulp and walk inside. I can't be too quick, or he'll notice me. Not too slow because I'll run out of time.

Steady now, Stephen, steady. For god's sake, you're a government agent, stop being so afraid.

Here's his locker. I get the tool out and slide it into the tricky little lock.

Why are my hands shaking so much?

Oh god, before I've always had a team of agents behind me, I've never been isolated, working against the government and the world.

Now I'm working on my own. Oh yes, Near's on the other end of a phone line, but what use is that? And Rester's the type of man who wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire, not unless he had some documents involved.

So many of us are already dead… perhaps I should quit…

The locker clicks, and opens.

There's his briefcase.

I forgot, that's locked too! Crap! I have to work faster! I have to!

I jam the tool into the lock and start working.

Is this really worth my life? If the Shinigami sees me, it might… I can't even think about it...

I've always been told I'm an excellent agent, top of my classes at Quantico. I never feared anything, I brought down some of the worst scum in the world.

But right now… I can feel my stomach churning like I'm going to hurl. All I want to do is run. I've never been scared like this before.

And I-

The briefcase opens.

No time left to be afraid. I lunge my hand for the black leather cover.

Nothing. I jolt and look around hurriedly.

There's nothing there!

I leave everything exactly as it was, and get out of there in plenty of time. When I look at my watch, I only took a little over ten minutes to complete the task. I was never in any danger of being caught.

I take a moment to lean back and sigh in the car, then press the button that connects me to my miniature boss.

"I did it, sir. There's no Shinigami attached to Mikami at this time."

There, my mission is done…

Oh, I forgot to hang up…

"If Gevanni's alive in 24 days…"

…

I…

Near's using me… to test if I'm being controlled by Kira…and… and I… I might be… sentenced to death already.

…

I think need somewhere to throw up, then I need several large drinks.


	64. Stars

#64 Stars

Punch after punch. Slap after slap. Cruel words with crueller smiles.

I put up with it all through our childhood. You were such a scrappy kid, and competitive. It drove you to near insanity when I nipped so close at your heels in all our tests. I suppose it was bad enough with Near besting you without any effort, without your geeky roommate coming in so closely behind you with even less effort.

I won't apologise for that though, Mello. Maybe if I'd studied like you did then I would have been second, but I didn't. In a way I was doing you a favour by not trying.

I don't know how you would class us in terms of relationships. Everyone at Wammy's said I was your best friend, but what kind of friend were you to me? Smacking me around all the time, making me do what you commanded?

But I always did it, didn't I? I never tried to resist. I remember that frustrated you too, you wanted me to fight back so you could release the pent-up rage on someone.

Then one day you were gone. I cried for weeks, and I wasn't sure why. Too young, I suppose, to understand loving someone so much that you don't mind when they hurt you.

I ran away too. I saw what was coming when I heard Linda being asked about her drawings of you and Near. I wasn't gonna wait around for Kira to come and find me. Heh, if you can't find first or second, take third and use him for ransom, right?

I ran away to London. I dunno why, I guess I figured you'd head there. I wanted someone to give me orders again. I can deal with orders; I'm good at doing what I'm told.

God knows how I managed not to get killed or raped, those first few nights. Born survivor, that's me. It sounds like a good thing to be, but to survive, you have to go through hell.

Wasn't hard to hack a few accounts. I set it up so just enough that they wouldn't notice was periodically dropped into my own account. I made myself three different identities, everything I owned was in a different name. Kira wasn't gonna get me.

Didn't help my agoraphobia, being able to get basically anything I wanted delivered right to my door. I barely left my flat, I just laid in bed all day smoking and obsessing over you.

I grew up, and started understanding why I cried for weeks when you left. Why I let you punch me about and use me. Why I didn't try to be better than you.

Somehow I'd fallen in love. I guess it's not hard to understand, I mean you were always gorgeous, and thought you were a mean kid, I could always tell that at heart you wanted to be nice. You just didn't know how, right? We were both from bad backgrounds, and you learnt that it was dangerous to let anyone in.

Or maybe I'm wrong… because if you thought it was dangerous, why would you have found me?

Why would you have waltzed back into my life, all evil grins and skin-tight leathers?

"I want you to hack the Japanese police force for me."

"Matt, get into Yagami's security system."

"Matt, make yourself useful and stalk Misa Amane."

"Hey you, useless, wanna help me kidnap some bitch?"

That one was the final straw. I stood up and yelled, "I'm NOT useless!!"

The look on your face was one I'd never seen before. That rush of sudden disbelief that actually made you drop your chocolate.

And then you smirked. "Finally fighting back, eh?"

I remember that suddenly I was shaking. You always scared me, and now there was a gun involved as well.

I stammered out, "I'm…I'm not useless! I… I don't care if you call me names or hit me Mello, you already know that I'd do anything for you if you asked it, but you can't call me useless anymore!"

There was that look again. You rose to your feet, leather creaking as you walked towards me, and lifted your hand.

I braced myself for a slap that never came.

Instead you pulled one of those gloves off and stroked my cheek. And you spoke in a soft, almost sad voice, "I've really been horrible to you, haven't I Matty? You ought to run away from me before it's too late."

I shook my head, against your soft, warm hand. "No… I told you… I'll do anything for you… I'd kill for you, die for you… even get the stars for you, if I thought you wanted them…" I remember blinking hard to keep the tears back. "I…I think I love you Mello. I do, I mean… I…"

You laughed in that strange, sad way, like smashing china. "You're such a dope."

You lifted my chin, and calmly tugged my goggles from around my head. You leant in and nuzzled my cheek, I could smell chocolate and coconuts on your skin.

And then your purred in my ear, "I don't want the stars… I never wanted the stars from you… I just wanted someone to want me… despite everything that I am."


	65. Secret

#65 Secret

Mogi didn't have many vices, not that he could name, anyway. Certainly nothing that would put off young women from dating the policeman. Oh, there was the mild obsession with robotics, and a slight problem with expressing any emotion, but otherwise he was fairly confident he was a good man.

And lately he was discovering that he had the patience of a saint.

"Mochi-chi!" Misa Amane whined. "I'm bored! I wanna go see Light!"

Mogi sighed and continued to deal the cards for what had to be the thousandth game of snap. "I told you Misa, Light is very busy right now, he wishes he could see you more but the case is very close to being finished." He frowned as he lied through his teeth to the young girl.

Where was the justice? This poor, pretty little creature, desperately in love with a man who was happily and fairly publicly cheating on her… and Mogi was having to lie for the little punk.

Mogi had never liked Light. Not that he'd ever said so, but he'd always felt uneasy around the chief's son.

Except there was no chief anymore, was there?

Mogi shook his head to himself. He couldn't keep thinking about this, it was disloyal to the chief's memory to be suspicious of Light… at least while there was still no proof beyond the gut feelings of a few cops.

The doorbell jangled cheerfully, bringing him back to his senses. With a sigh he headed to the door and opened it.

A young man with a toolbox stood on the stoop, smiling innocently and easily under a mop of red hair, thick, tinted glasses covering his eyes. His uniform bore the name of an electrical company. He grinned and stubbed out his cigarette on the wall of the house.

"Hey, we've had some complaints about power surges in the area, gotta check the wiring in all the houses on this street."

It was so damn plausible. And the guy was a damn fine actor, keeping up the conversation as the stoic Mogi led him inside.

"Yeah, the boss thought it was the external line but now he doesn't know what it is." He added in such a convincing voice. "Where's the fuse box? Under the stairs?" he asked, kneeling and opening the door anyway.

Mogi sighed and leant on the wall, letting his mind wander while the repairman did his job. After all, Light's instructions were only to protect Misa, not forbid any guy who came out to do his job, and besides, Misa had flounced off upstairs in a huff anyway, no danger of this guy seeing her…

The electricity fizzled, popped, and died. The security cameras in the house shut down.

He felt the gun before he heard the safety being flicked off with a decisive 'snck'. The cold steel pressed to the side of his head and that voice that had seemed so amicable hissed out; "First, you're going to tell the girl that I've got to run and get some supplies to fix your power… and then you're going to tell the girl you're going back to the office for something," he calmly flexed his fingers on the trigger. "and don't try anything heroic because I will shoot you."

Mogi froze. He cursed himself internally for letting his mind wander so much that he missed the gun resting in this guy's toolbox. He wondered exactly how angry Aizawa would be later.

"Misa, the repair guy says he's got to go get some more parts, he'll be back soon to fix the electricity!" he called.

Misa gave an angry shriek in response.

Mogi sighed and felt the barrel of the gun, cold and smelling of powder, press harder to his temple.

"And the rest." The man hissed.

"I'm just going to HQ to let them know what happened!" Mogi called without hesitation. Evidently this guy wasn't after Misa, he could have shot Mogi and grabbed her by now.

Two minutes later he was trussed up like a chicken and in the back of the white van. He groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position and peered at the small, white window into the drivers cab.

The man was there still, but gone was the cap, and the tinted sunglasses. It was funny how naked his face looked without them.

Mogi swallowed and decided to speak, not something he did often, he preferred to get on with things rather than ask questions.

"You're just a kid." He started.

The boy shot him a glare in the rear-view mirror and didn't respond. The van swerved slightly and Mogi fell back against the wall, knocking himself unconscious in one clean movement.

~*~*~

When he awoke, he was in darkness. So much darkness, in fact, that for a couple of seconds he wasn't sure he was blinking.

"You finally woke up then, Mr. Mogi."

That voice was different. Not the slightly smoky voice of before, this was rich and vicious, and suggested its owner spent a lot of time looking for people to shoot at.

Mogi decided it was better for him not to reply.

"I'll cut straight to it, you prefer things that way, correct?"

He nodded.

"Good. Light Yagami is Kira. We have plenty of evidence, but not the note. Now don't look so angry, we're not asking you to steal it. Something much simpler."

So, he was right about Light. Mogi wasn't that surprised, when you're a cop for a long time you get to be able to _smell_ the evil on some people.

There was a small 'snap', Mogi recognised it as chocolate breaking and held his breath. Mello was dead; everyone had seen the explosion…

"Mr. Mogi, in the not too distant future some people will come to your house and take you and Miss. Amane to a place where you can't interfere. All we ask is that you go with them quickly and quietly and do not try to stop what is going to happen."

Mogi nodded slowly.

"This meeting is to be an utter secret. If you mention what happened today we will know and we will not hesitate… and we know ways of keeping people alive for hours and in constant pain."

Mogi nodded again, his eyes trying to focus in the dark on the two vague figures, standing in the blackness. One seemed to be whispering to the other.

Two? That was what he was up against? Two boys just barely out of their teens? And why were they doing this? Why-

Another heavy blow to his head knocked him out again.

Matt sighed, "Mello, love, why are you doing this? Helping the sheep, I mean."

Mello growled to himself and bit into the chocolate again. "No other choice now Matty… all we can do is make it easier for shee- Near to take Kira down." He sighed. "Go dump this guy somewhere near the house, and hurry back, we're going to practise target shooting."

As Matt began to move the heavy bulk of the policeman back into the van, Mello snapped, "And make sure no-one sees you! This is a secret, remember?!"

A/N: :( Not to be a bit of an attention whore but come on guys, I could really use a self-esteem boost right now, a review would be nice.


	66. Bed

#66 Bed

L didn't often sleep, especially not when he was on a case. Watari often wondered if the boy felt if he slept, he was letting the victims down.

The upshot of this was that when he finally did nod off, he was impossible to wake.

During the first few weeks after the Kira case came to its end, Misa had found this adorable. L tended to sleep curled up and sucking his thumb. He looked so innocent and cute, so unlike the Ryuzaki she knew in the waking world, with his dark, penetrating eyes and sharply handsome features.

She never would have pinned him for the same man who rescued her from Kira, who showed her that he loved her more than Light ever could.

About a month after the Kira case, he was sent out on another case, and though this one didn't take nearly as long as the Kira case, when the poor man finally made it home to England and to Misa, he was clearly exhausted.

So utterly tired was the detective that he barely managed to stutter out 'Hello' to his girlfriend before collapsing onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and cotton.

And now it was morning, the sun was shining and Misa could already hear the children of this orphanage that she now lived in starting to run around and play in the warm outdoors.

And L was laying there, snoring softly with a blanket curled around his legs and waist, effectively tying him into a knot.

Misa found this intensely annoying. She understood he needed his rest, but she was supposed to be his girlfriend, and yet all he had managed to stumble out before passing out was 'hello'. Would a little kiss have killed him? A hug maybe?

Misa blushed slightly as her thoughts wandered to how long it had been since he touched her. She was grateful that L was a gentleman, but sometimes she wanted him to just be a man and take her…

She sighed and looked down at his sleeping face. His nose twitched.

A small pout came to her lips and she prodded once at his cheek. He didn't even twitch. Somehow this cute little action annoyed Misa more.

And then a _wicked_ idea came to her mind, and she slowly and carefully slipped out of their bed and towards the bathroom, returning a moment later with a can of shaving cream and an evil grin.

Silently and gently she removed one of L's arms from the cocoon of blankets he felt obliged to wrap himself up in and filled with hand with the white cream, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling.

She couldn't force back the giggle that trickled out as she started to once more start poking at his face, watching him twitch very slightly and his hand wriggle.

And then;

"Misa-chan, amusing as you seem to think this will be, I would advise against it." L said in a soft voice, eyes still closed in a perfect imitation of sleep.

Misa squeaked and pulled back as her boyfriend sat up, frowning at the mess on his hand and rubbing it into his shirt before pulling himself into his usual crouch.

"Misa-chan has been very naughty." He observed.

Misa blushed guiltily and mumbled, "Misa was lonely and bored while L was away and then you were too sleepy for cuddles." She looked away, pouting to herself.

When she dared to look up again, he was smiling adorably at her. With one movement he grasped her wrists and pinned her to the bed, leaning down to purr into her ear, "L will have to fix that."

A/N: :) thank you everyone who reviewed to cheer me up, you're all lovely. *hugs*


	67. Portal

#67 Portal

Rem didn't much like the male members of her species. The male shinigami seemed out outnumber the females these days, since the king had forbidden breeding. Rem hadn't yet fathomed out why; it wasn't as though the females were less vicious. On the contrary, in the case of Kinddara, none of the males would go near her for fear of her literally ripping them to pieces.

But in any case, she disliked the males. They were crude and self-important and tended to tease her for being so 'pretty'.

Oh yes, by shinigami standards, Rem was a beauty, not many could claim her pure white coloration, much less her delicately built body. Watching her wings unfold was a work of art, a complicated construction of bone and feather.

Right down to her facial features, Rem was a rare beauty. Golden eyes like sunlight and lavender hair was much admired. Why, the lovely Daril, covered in her gems and gold, would often remark how she would kill for Rem's eyes. This usually prompted laughter from the assembled shinigami.

Rem floated through it all like an iceberg. She wasn't interested in making friends with the deeply stupid 'Gamis who spent their time gambling, nor with the scheming ones who were forever talking of ways to overthrow the king or somehow get into the human world and really mess things up.

She didn't even see the attraction in the killing. She knew some Shinigami who adored their trips to the windows into the mortal realm, who wrote down names greedily and filled up their notebooks. She just saw it as a boring necessity. No regrets, no pleasure, just something she did to stave off her own destruction.

Until one day when she was walking among the portals and spied a small figure hunched over one.

Frowning slightly, she moved between the stone domes towards the little shape, recognising him as a shinigami, but she couldn't think what his name was.

"What are you looking at?" she asked calmly, towering over him.

The little creature squeaked and turned in a panic. Rem noting to herself that he was obviously a low-ranking shinigami, based only on his ragged appearance and the clumsy writing on his notebook. His skin was patchwork and bone; large, uneven stitches held him together.

Rem sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you. What are you looking at?"

The creature gulped. "Promise not to hurt her!"

Rem had blinked, stunned, but nodded calmly, peering over the little shinigami into the portal.

It showed a human girl. Rem, like all shinigami, couldn't really call herself a good judge of human attractiveness, but she supposed that from the way several humans seemed to be staring at this particular girl, she much have been pretty.

"A girl?" Rem questioned. "I have no interest in her."

The creature frowned and sighed, "No-one but me does… none of the others can see how beautiful she is… she's so kind and loving. All the humans she meets, they all fall in love with her a little bit."

Rem tilted her head and knelt to better examine this apparently extraordinary girl.

She didn't look like much, just another small human female. She had yellow hair and big blue eyes, bright red lips, but certainly Red wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd.

"She doesn't look like anything special." Rem muttered.

The smaller shinigami shuffled next to her, "I know, but she is, trust me… you should see the way things look when she really smiles… it lights up the whole world."

Rem didn't understand this, but she nodded anyway. She watched a little while long, the bouncy way the girl walked and the easy way she spoke to the people around her. She observed the little waves and jangles of her jewellery.

Rem rolled her large gold eyes and stood upright, once again towering over the low-ranking shinigami.

She turned to walk away from the portal and the lonely watcher, but something pulled her back. She glanced over her shoulder and asked. "What is your name?"

He blinked his large eyes at her, and Rem noticed for the first time that they were gold, like her own. Somewhere in the back of her mind, long-forgotten emotions began to take root.

"Gelus." He mumbled. "My Name is Gelus." He swallowed nervously and glanced back at the portal again. "You promise you won't hurt her?"

Rem found herself nodding, and saying softly, "I promise."


	68. Hair

#68 Hair

It's hard being a mother. Harder still when one of your kids is so intensely intelligent that she understands things no five-year- old should.

Misa was having a hard time with this in the case of her and L's youngest child, Tsuki.

They'd worked out fairly early on that she had aspergers syndrome, much like her father, it had been pretty obvious even when she was a baby, in the way she would stare for hours at a time at one object, and her strange little quirks.

And again, they learnt of her high IQ at an early age too, when she started trying to form words when she was barely six months old.

Since then it had been surprise after surprise for Misa. As many times as she reminded herself that her little girl was a genius, it still surprised her when the child wandered over and calmly used a word like 'forensic' and knew what it meant.

Misa supposed it was the reverse of her husband's situation with their son. Jay had never been overly-bright, more interested in playing and posing for cameras than learning. L had never understood it.

Now Tsuki was sitting by her father's side as he solved cases, happy to camp under his desk with a pile of paper and crayons. That wasn't the weird part.

The weird part was when she would hand him one of her drawings that demonstrated her own theories on the cases he was working on. She usually drew flowers and bunnies around the calculations, almost as an afterthought.

L always seemed very proud of them. Misa just got concerned that her daughter was too obsessed with her father's job.

No amount of reassurances from L or the other detectives could calm her down about Tsuki's sleeping patterns, which had altered rapidly over the last few years to the point where the little girl barely slept at all. Dark rings were growing under her eyes and Misa was anxious that they'd never go away.

L just blinked at her when she told him her worries and replied that so long as Tsuki was happy and (according to her doctor) in good health, what was the problem?

Misa didn't want to tell him that the real reason behind it was her own jealousy. She didn't mind Tsuki adoring her father as she obviously did, but the dark-haired little girl barely ever wanted to spend time with her mother. The closest Misa got to a hug from her daughter these days was a steady blink of those big blue eyes across the breakfast table.

All of this was running around the model's head as she laid haphazardly on the sofa of her apartment (actually it was an entire floor of the investigation building, more than enough space for her small family), flicking through the t.v. channels while Jay sat, slumped, in the armchair, happily texting his boyfriend.

They both looked up as they heard the door open, and upon seeing who it was, Jay's head when back to his phone, while Misa smiled sweetly and chirped. "Hi Eru~ Hi Tsuki-chan!"

L smiled back, his dark-haired daughter clinging to his shirt as he carried her in. "The case was solved earlier than we thought." He patted the little girl's back, "Tsuki-chan was very useful today."

Tsuki didn't seem to respond beyond burrowing closer to her father.

What followed was a very comfy evening by the Lawliet's standards, ordering in their favourite take-out, listening to Jay complain about the weight gain while at the same time stuffing his face, having a small argument about which movie to put on, and finally snuggling into the plush sofa together, Jay back in his armchair with his phone, and Tsuki on the floor doing a jigsaw.

It was halfway through the movie when the little girl soundlessly got up and wandered out of the room, scurrying back a moment later with her mother's hairbrush in her hand.

Misa looked at her quizzically.

Tsuki shuffled slightly, suddenly awkward and vaguely shy, she mumbled, "Will Mummy brush my hair like hers?"

Misa beamed and instantly picked her daughter into her lap, smiling as she brushed the long black hair into pigtails, and smiling more when she saw the reflection in the t.v, seeing for the first time in a long time, herself in her daughter's face.


	69. Water

#69 Water

A/N: heehee, 69. I have the mental age of a fourteen-year-old. XD

The case was over. It was over and somehow, some way, they'd made it out alive. God alone knew how they'd been so lucky.

Well, lucky, plus Matt's skill behind the wheel was second to none (he told Mello all those Grand theft auto games would be handy one day). Plus Kiyomi Takada had misspelled Mello's name.

They'd found one another again outside the burning church where Mello left Takada. He'd been lucky, he'd stepped out to get some air before something sparked in the van and started the fire that would have killed them both.

They'd sat together for hours afterwards, parked up in Matt's car behind a nearby patch of greenery, watching the fire brigade do their best to put it out. For a long time into the night the fire was the only light they needed.

Somewhere in the darkness, Matt muttered. "We're alive."

Mello nodded. "I know. Scary, huh?"

Matt laughed, then replied, "Lets get out of here." As he reached to start up the car.

For once, Mello didn't have any objections; he just sank back into the cool leather of the seat and mumbled, "Find us a nice hotel, Mail. Or failing that, a crappy one with a well-stocked bar."

Now it was either very late at night or early in the morning, Matt wasn't sure, and didn't care. Both of them were pleasantly drunk, laughing at how unbelievable it was that they were actually alive, debating how exactly Near was going to hand Light Yagami's ass to him, and wondering where, exactly, they would go now.

They made a strange pair, laying there on the rooftop of their chosen hotel, both in their boxer shorts, admiring the steam coming from the heated pool and jacuzzi and throwing back their drinks.

Mello sipped his and stared at the starlit sky. "Well I know one thing, we're not going back to Wammy's. Forget the whole goddamn L legacy, he's been avenged, that's what matters, right?"

Matt beamed, "So…so you're really giving it up? No more over-competitiveness with Near?"

Mello giggled to himself, "Yanno what? F*ck Near. F*ck Near right in his albino ear." He raised his glass as if to toast this idea, then had second thoughts and drank it instead, shaking off the burn of the alcohol. "We can go anywhere Matty, I'm serious, you name the place and I'll make it happen."

Matt felt a blush creeping across his freckled skin, "Really? Anywhere?"

Mello nodded, lost his balance, and slipped off his sun-lounger, laughing to himself.

Matt, less drunk than Mello, patted his friend's arm, "I wanna find us a little tropical island, buy us a nice house and just live there forever. I can hack for a living and stuff."

Mello nodded from his place on the floor, "Ask and you shall receive." He mumbled, stumbling over some of his words.

Matt gulped. There was something else he wanted, he'd wanted for a long time. Never yet had the courage to tell Mello though. He was pretty much convinced they'd be dead by now though.

Did he really want to say it now? Tell Mello the truth of why he'd always done what the blonde asked without question? Risk their perfect friendship?

But come on, Mello was supposed to be a genius, surely he had a few suspicions, right? And it wasn't as if Matt hadn't told him before how attractive he was, Mello had always just laughed it off though.

With alcohol fuelling his courage, Matt gulped and stood up, walking to the edge of the pool and staring down at his reflection.

"Matty! Matty!" Mello called from the floor, "Come see how far I can bend my arm! Ow!"

Matt sighed. "Mello, I-"

And then he went sprawling into the water. He twisted underwater and surfaced, glaring through his goggles at the laughing blonde. "Mello! That wasn't funny!"

"Yeah it was!!" Mello yelled back, before Matt pulled him in too.

What followed was five minutes of very warm, wet, wrestling and splashing as the two of them played like little kids in the pool.

Somehow, Matt ended up pinned to the side of the pool, Mello's arms either side of his head, Mello's face grinning maniacally at him.

"Heheh, I win." Mello purred.

Matt nodded, "Yeah, you win Mells." He answered with a smile.

Mello's expression changed suddenly. It softened, and so did he, suddenly he leant closer to Matt's chest, closing his eyes to nuzzle at his neck. Matt wondered if he'd passed out and this was some weird drunken fantasy.

"Mmm…" Mello hummed. "I totally love you Mail."

Matt's face flushed as red as his hair. "Mello, you're drunk."

Mello pulled back, a frown on his face, his fine hair dishevelled. "Not THAT drunk, Matt. Ya think I'd say somethin like that and not mean it?"

Matt blinked. "You do mean it then?"

When his best friend nodded, he pulled the blonde back against his chest, nuzzling into that hair that now smelled of chlorine and chocolate. He thanked the gods of luck for giving him all that he'd needed that day.

"I love you too Mells." He mumbled, just for his friend to hear.


	70. Confession

#70 Confession

"Bless me father, for I have sinned."

A shuffle of cloth. The click of rosary beads.

"What is your sin, my son?"

A soft sigh. The glimpse of blonde through a network of wood.

"Do not be afraid, my son, your words in here are between yourself and god."

The throat clears.

"I have been envious, father. I have been envious for much of my life."

"Of what have you been envious, my son?"

A slight creak of new leather. "Of a classmate, who always did better than me, despite my best efforts."

A kindly smile, "All god asks is that you do your best, my son. If you can say that you have done so, nothing more can be asked of you."

Another cough. "I have sinned many other times, father. I have stolen, and I have lied." A soft, piteous swallow. "I have killed. Many, many times I have pulled a trigger and taken a life. Father, my only excuse is that all of my sins were for the greater good."

A pause.

"Father, you must believe that I felt I had to do these terrible things, for the rest of the world's sake."

That warm, kindly voice sighs. "What greater good is there that is worth all those sins, my son?"

A bitter twinge comes to the voice on the other side of the curtain. "Stopping a man who intends to murder the world, father. Upholding justice in the world. Avenging the man whom, for all intents and purposes, was my father."

Another, longer pause. A shuffling of pages, peering into the bible.

"Revenge is a dark motive, my son, but the others you speak of are noble. But you did right to ask forgiveness, my son. You must pray to our lord and do as he bids you, I fear your soul is beyond my reach."

Horrorified. "Father! You can't mean that! I want to be saved! I have been a good Catholic my whole life! I-"

"My son, you misunderstand me." The voice cuts him off. "No soul is beyond the reach of the almighty. Pray to him. Pray to the virgin mother. Pray, and ask those with greater power than I for forgiveness."

There is a relieved sigh behind that curtain.

"Oh, father, I have one other sin."

"Another one, my son?"

A light laugh. "It is a sin I can't bring myself to regret, father. It is a sin of love."

"Love is not a sin, my son."

A sigh. "You would have me believe it is a sin if the one I love is a man."

The bible hits the floor with a whack.

"My son-" The priest almost sees the smile through the curtain. It is like a fox's jaw.

"I don't believe god would forbid me from loving one so perfect, Father. One who knows me so well, one who loves me so much and so purely despite all that I am." The throat clears again. "He is the only man I love, and, providing I last that long, I intend on spending my whole life only with him."

A swallow from behind the curtain.

"My son… don't spread it around my congregation, but I don't believe there is any sin where there is pure love."

"Bless you father." The leather creaks again as there is movement. "Goodbye. I don't think I'll live to see tomorrow."

When he dares look out to find this envious, murderous sodomite, the church is empty, but for the faint sound of a motorbike in the distance.


	71. Costume

#71 Costume

A/N: 8D Happy L's birthday everyone! Here's my present to him, lol ;)

Misa squealed girlishly as she twirled in front of her mirror. She looked _damn_ adorable, even if she said so herself. Her long blonde hair was tied up in elaborate black and orange ribbons, she wore black tights with glittering little black bats in them, her dress was black with ripped orange netting overlaying, and balancing precariously on her head was a tall witches hat.

Rem blinked at this display, curious as ever. "Misa, what is the purpose of this dress-up?"

The model giggled, swiping up her broomstick as she skipped to the door, "Its Halloween Rem! All humans dress up like scary things and go out to get candy or party!" she did another twirl as she waited for the elevator, "And Light-kun invited me to a party with him! Eee!"

Rem shook head to herself, bewildered, but accepting. "I hope you enjoy it as much as you want to, Misa."

Twenty minutes later and Misa was stuck in the middle of a party in a college student's house, having only glimpsed Light twice before loosing him in the crowd. The music was thudding in her head, the lights were flashing and with all the brightly-coloured costumes she couldn't focus on any one person. She sipped her punch and frowned at the sour taste.

A figure slumped into the seat beside her, "Hello."

She looked up, and found herself looking at a vision of loveliness.

He was tall and slim, long black trousers lead up to a blue coat, the lapels sparkled with glitter, golden buttons covered the front. His dark hair was swept back neatly. A mask almost as white as the man's skin covered his eyes, and somewhere inside this annoyed Misa, because with that, she couldn't see his name. But she recognised him purely from the tiny silver crown atop his dark hair.

She gasped, and hissed, "Prince Charming."

Then she remembered where she was, blushed, and mumbled, "I mean, Hello!"

The boy laughed softly. "You're Misa Amane, aren't you? I'm a big fan." He offered a hand. "You can keep calling me Charming, if you like."

Misa found herself giggling as she shook his hand, all thoughts of Light forgotten. "You can call me Misa-chan." She squeaked.

The prince nodded, and rose to his feet. Misa almost laughed when she saw how awkwardly he stood. "Would you dance with me, Misa?"

She found it very difficult to refuse, and in no time the pair were amid the mass of people, tangled in heat and colours and thumping beats.

It was amid all this mess that Misa started to feel the floor move dizzily beneath her.

"Oh… Misa doesn't feel so good." She mumbled, not thinking for a second that her prince Charming would hear her over the sound of the music, but unable to make herself any louder. She whined when she felt the floor move again, (just _how_ was it doing that?) and stumbled forwards into pale white hands.

When she opened her eyes again she was outside, on the grass. Above her she saw the concerned eyes of her prince, and realised slowly that her head was on his lap. She forced herself to sit upright.

"Are you all right, Misa?" the prince questioned, shifting his position to tuck his knees to his chest. He looked like a monkey.

She nodded woozily, "Misa was just too hot… thank you for taking care of Misa."

He brought his thumb to his mouth, biting it. "It was my pleasure. It's not often I get to meet and dance with a gorgeous girl who then faints in my arms." He smiled cheekily, and Misa almost swore his eyes sparkled like his coat. "It's the best birthday ever."

Misa smirked. "It's your birthday, Prince Charming?"

The man nodded.

The model giggled, and reached to trace his cheek, "Well, Misa-misa has a boyfriend, but because Prince Charming was so good and kind to her, he deserves a kiss."

She leant forwards and chastely brushed her lips against his.

~*~*~

She didn't remember much of the night. Or she chose not to. All she was sure of was that her Prince left in an awful hurry soon after that.

Which was probably why she didn't seem so shocked when she met Ryuzaki. After all, _her_ prince had been handsome and charming, Ryuzaki looked like a zombie.

She didn't make the connection when he said he was a fan. Nor when she saw the way he sat, or listened to his voice, looked at his eyes.

She didn't connect it until almost a year later, when, on Halloween, Watari brought out a birthday cake for L.

She had raised her eyebrows; "It's Ryuzaki's birthday?

L nodded, chewing his thumb. He appeared to glance around, then rose from his chair and leant down to whisper something into Misa's ear.

He whispered; "If you kiss me, will I turn back into a prince?"

Light never did fathom out why she ran from the office squealing that day.


	72. Pure

#72 Pure

Warning: Underage implied sexual activities, rape, abuse, if any of this squicks you out you might wanna skip this chapter. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

"You're so _cute._"

I don't respond. Responding makes her hurt me more. If I just remove my mind from this place, and think, I'm sure there's a way out of here. There has to be; L taught me that every problem has a solution.

Takada giggles at my silence. "I can see why Kira-sama gave you to me, you're so dainty and pretty, all that pure white skin… a real ladies pet."

I bite my lip. Kira. Light Yagami. He broke L, my mentor, my father figure. He took him and broke him. And then he came after Wammy's house.

Roger was so brave, evidently he did like children, deep, deep down, because he scattered us to the four corners of the world.

But it wasn't enough. Mello came so, so close to saving L, and then at the last moment the Kira soldiers got him and Matt.

And then they found me. My staff held them off for as long as they could, but in the end, I was thrown naked into the same cell as Mello, Matt, and L.

I cried first. I think that shocked them all.

I cried for them. The humiliation of it.

He broke Mello's precious rosary and made him say that his god was dead. Mello threw up afterwards.

He took Matt's goggles and blindfolded him, about the worst thing he could have done to someone who could barely see to begin with.

He made L wear a collar with his symbol on it.

I cried when Light took L away and somehow made him a slave. L doesn't even recognise his name anymore, so I'm told.

I cried when Light had Matt ripped from Mello's arms, kicking and screaming. Good for him, fighting the bastards.

I heard he went to Mikami, the hand of Kira. Takada likes to tease me by saying the red-head committed suicide. I want to believe she's lying, but it seems all too possible. Matt never could function without Mello.

Mello was sent to Damegawa. I understand why, Mello was always beautiful and perfect, and never, EVER went with anyone he considered beneath him. Kira reduced him to a disgusting pig's whore. I expect any day now I'll be told he's died too.

I was sent to the goddess. Or Kira's Whore, as I like to call her in my head.

She strokes my cheek, I feel myself twitch in revulsion.

"My cute little Nate, what shall we do today, hmm? Would you like me to arouse you like before? My pure little angel?"

I almost throw up at the memories of what she makes me do. Things my body is too young for, things I can't understand. I don't feel as pure as she says, I feel filthy and sick.

Anything is better than her doing that to me again. I don't care if I die this time, I don't. I strain against my shackles, trying to get free. Her perfume makes me sick.

I hear her smile. "Bad boy. Say 'I'm sorry, Lady Takada'."

I look up at her, fix her with my red eyes, and try to act like Mello in a bad mood.

"Kira's a huge homo and that's why he won't touch you, you repulsive bitch!" I snarl, and spit at her. It falls short, and my voice is annoyingly unbroken, but the rage is in her eyes all the same.

"Why you little runt!!" She shrieks, and slaps me across both cheeks. I don't care.

"You're the stupid bitch who let that asshole manipulate her!" I snap back. I wish I were older. I wish I had Matt or Mello here with me, they know better swears and have gravely voices that make insults sound better.

She snarls in rage and picks up the cane. She grasps my arm painfully and twists me onto my stomach, bringing the horrible piece of wood down on my back.

I must be bleeding. I can feel blood running down my back.

I hate this. I hate it. I'm not supposed to be doing this. I want to go back to Wammy's. I want to go _home_. I want Mello and Matt and L and Watari and god forbid, even Roger would be a welcome sight right now.

I start to cry, and then gasp aloud how badly I just want to go _home_. She starts to laugh at me and I cry harder. I don't care. I'm not one of the older boys who could deal with this, I'm a kid and I want my mum and I want to go home.

Eventually, it stops.

She bandages me, and strokes my hair. I have to squelch the gratitude in my heart. She hasn't done anything to deserve my gratitude; I have to remember that. I won't fall prey to Stockholm syndrome. When I get out, I'll hate her as much as I do now.

I need someone to rescue me, and soon, because I can feel myself slipping away in little pieces.

Mello… you can be first, I don't want it anymore, just escape and come get me.

Matt, don't be dead, please god don't be dead. Just escape somehow, we'll all be together and safe again.

L, where are you?


	73. Cows

#73 Cows

"Hey, I need your opinion."

Mello's head rose from the depths of his desk, head-deep as he was in the Kira case.

There was his damn cohort, sitting there playing on his stupid d.s. on their cracked leather sofa, rescued from an Ikea dumpster and patched up with tape.

Mello growled in his throat, wondering how he, a fine, cultured young man who had dined in the world's finest restaurants with some of the worlds finest and handsomest people, had ended up in a cramped L.A. apartment that smelled of smoke and despair, with furniture scavenged from bins, and that huge dork sitting in it, taking up space and being annoying.

He had tried and failed to educate Matt on the finer things in life. Wine gave Matt headaches and they point-blank couldn't afford to go out to the kind of restaurants Mello deemed worthy of being seen in. When he'd brought Matt some designer clothes (in a desperate effort to make him look nice) they'd somehow ended up looking _cheap_ on Matt.

Hell, even trying to get him to stop smoking had been a resounding failure that resulted with a very irritable Matt and a slightly nervous Mello.

It drove Mello up the wall to think that Matt could be satisfied with the crappy life they were etching out for themselves.

"What do you want my opinion on, dork?" he snapped.

Why did he always have to _smile_ when Mello insulted him? As if it was a pet name, for gods sake… it really annoyed Mello that there didn't seem to be a thing he could do that would really, truly annoy Matt as much as the world annoyed Mello.

The gamer always said it was just a matter of not letting the bad stuff in, and remembering that there was always someone worse off.

And sometimes he winked at Mello and said 'Hey, even if you're calling me names, you're still talking to me, angel.'

Matt stretched and eased himself up from the couch, holding out his little hand-held, bleeping out its cheerful tunes.

Mello growled, "If its another level you've designed on that damn game I don't want to know about it, in case you hadn't noticed I'm sort of busy saving the world and kicking Near's albino ass."

That damn smile stayed on Matt's lips. "It's not, I just finished naming my cows in Harvest moon, I want your opinion on them. Since you're good at names."

Mello raised an eyebrow. That was a weird thing to say, even by Matt's standards. He wondered if the gamer was referring to his rather impressive grasp of languages and grammar, something that Matt had struggled with all through Wammy's.

With a deep sigh he took the hand-held from Matt, holding it by the edges, not in a tribute to L, but because if at all possible, he didn't want to absorb the 'dork' from it.

He tilted his head and scanned the screen. There was a list of the names Matt had chosen to give the bits of data, little pictures of the creatures next to them.

"Mmh, nice enough I suppose." He muttered, offering it back, before he noticed the slightly hurt look on Matt's face. "what?"

"You didn't read them, Mells." He mumbled. "I know you didn't."

Mello rolled his eyes, "Well I'm busy, and why is it so important to you anyway? Its some stupid cow names."

Matt's eyes narrowed behind the plastic of his goggles. "Mello, I know you don't get the stuff that's important to me, but if you care about me at all you could at least read them."

Mello sighed and once more lowered his fine blue eyes to the screen, reading aloud the names, just to be sure Matt couldn't whine to him.

"Will, Ewe, Mary, Mee." He snapped. "Weird names Matt. Who names their cow 'Ewe'? and isn't 'Will' a girl cow?"

There was a small laugh from somewhere in front of him, and Mello lowered the game to see Matt kneeling in front of him and holding out a ring box.

And it occurred to Mello that despite Matt annoying him, he couldn't imagine spending one day without the adorable dork. And that it took a lot of time and effort to get that many cows.

And that sometimes, the simple things were the best.


	74. Fire

#74 Fire

Misa stared at the flame as it danced on the wick, her big blue eyes faded to blackness.

The cheap scent of roses wafted from the candle and filled her dark room as she stared into that pinpoint in the flame that was as black as night. Between yellow and orange, between the world and… something else.

Rem frowned, standing in a corner of the room, her delicate wings folded down to avoid knocking anything out of place. "Misa, you should not be doing this." She spoke softly. She always made her harsh voice softer when she was with the little model.

On some level, Rem was afraid the dusky sound of her voice would frighten the little human.

Misa concentrated harder on that pinpoint of nothingness. "Remu, you said that I might be able to get some of my years back if I made a deal with the Shinigami king. You said this is how you summon him, so-"

Rem shook her head, her lavender hair rustled against her bony shoulders. "Misa, I said that _only_ the shinigami king can give humans more time, and that he makes deals that trick humans out of more than just their life spans." She sighed. "I wish you would not do this, Misa. You still have a lot of time… Gelus' span was added to yours, the deal only halved that… you're still going to live a long time."

Misa frowned slightly. "Shh Rem. I want _all_ my time back, so I can be with Light for as long as possible." She giggled, "After all, he wouldn't know what to do without me."

Rem made a noise in her throat that could have been agreement or a growl.

Misa focused herself again and whispered, "What is it I have to say again?"

Rem sighed. "Hourglass keeper,

King of the reapers,

I summon you from your land,

My life contained in a grain of sand."

Misa nodded, and slowly and softly she repeated the incantation. At the last word, as Rem had told her, she lifted a handful of sand and poured it onto the flame, snuffing it and plunging the room into darkness.

At first, Misa was sure it had not worked, and opened her mouth to tell Rem to turn the light on.

A hand as cold as ice slithered to cover her mouth. A voice like fog hissed into her ear, "You summoned me, little one?"

Behind the hand that, Misa realised, was made of polished bones, the model screamed.

Rem's reassuring voice cut in, "Your Majesty! No-one respects you more than I, but if you harm Misa I'll-"

The voice chuckled. "Relax, Rem… I'm not going to hurt her… what do you wish of me, human?"

Misa shuddered and wished feverishly for some daylight. Terrified, she whimpered out, "I… I want to make a deal… for my life span."

Why was it so cold suddenly? And why, oh why, could Misa feel a breeze in her tiny bedroom? She dared reach one foot towards where her carpet should have been an almost screamed again when she felt cold sand under her toes.

"Your years, eh?" the king hissed. There was a noise like the rattling of a dicebox. "Countless humans have asked the same of me… I assume Rem has already told you… my deals might be unfair."

Misa nodded. "Remu said… but… but I'm a lot smarter than I look! Misa wants a real, proper deal!"

There was that laughter again. Misa wondered if perhaps there were things worse than death. And if they were sitting behind her right that moment.

"All right, little girl." The creature purred. "I know the perfect, and most fair trade in the world… I'll give you back your years…" there was a pause, "But you must promise to only love one man for the rest of your life. No matter what happens, only one."

If there had been light, Misa would have seen the hurt on Rem's face. The silent plea not to take the deal.

But they were trapped in the blackness.

Misa smiled, "That's easy! Misa only wants her Light-kun anyway! I'll take it!"

The king laughed. "Done… remember Miss Amane, a deal is a deal, even with a dirty dealer."

Then there was a thunderous crack, and Misa's bedroom light flickered on. They were in her room again, and Misa's foot was on the warmth of her deep-pile carpet.

Misa squealed with happiness and hugged the nearest plushie, "Yay!! Rem, you said it would be an unfair deal and he'd try to get more than my life span from me! All he wanted was for me to stay loyal to Light, which I'm gonna do anyway! Isn't it great?"

Rem nodded slowly, "Yes, Misa. It's wonderful." She replied, and hoped the little model would not see the tears in her golden eyes.


	75. Forgive

#75 Forgive

Kira's world. Kira's damned world.

A world where Wammy's house was decimated. A world where Watari's death had been slow and painful, just because Kira wanted to see his adversaries weep for their fallen benefactor.

A world where Mikami, Takada and Damegawa were given the three wammy boys as pets and slaves, purely because Kira wanted to see their faces as their idol stood helplessly by, unable to aid them.

And a world where L, the greatest detective of his times, possibly the smartest human being on earth, was a plaything.

It sickened L to his very core to see himself. What was he now? Kira's pet on a string. Naught but an object. Kira made him wear the L symbol on a collar. It hurt to see himself like that, see his empty eyes reflected in his silver symbol as yet another day was spent pleasuring the new god.

L had forced his own consciousness into the back of his mind. He forced himself to forget any life before Kira's reign. It made it somehow easier on the slow march to oblivion.

He barely reacted at all when the god mockingly showed him a tape of Near, molested and miserable, crying for his mother.

He didn't look up when another tape revealed Mello whispering that the only god in the world was Kira.

No tears were shed when Kira told him Matt had been hospitalised, apparently driven insane by Mikami.

And then something had changed.

It was so clear and focused in L's mind. How, so suddenly, Light had come back.

He always thought of them as separate now, Kira and Light. Light had been his _friend_, his comrade. He'd enjoyed their friendly rivalry. Kira was a sadist who enslaved him and his heirs. Light had died the moment Kira took over.

But then, somehow, he'd come back.

He'd come back and helped L to his feet, bathed his sore wounds and gave him warm clothes. Told him it would all be ok from now on.

When Light came back, so did L.

And L was _angry_.

But L was also a fine actor. He allowed Light to tenderly take care of him. He played the faithful pet as well as Light played the loving god. He made plans, and gained his trust. He learned that only Light knew where the death note was hidden, that his servants had the eyes but nothing else. He observed the boy.

Light began to let his guard down. He took L to his bed, first in chains, then free. Sometime during his reign, he'd forgotten L's hatred of losing, and of his ability to bear a grudge. Or perhaps he just convinced himself that if he was kind enough, L would forgive everything that had been done to him.

And that had led to this. Light, sleeping peacefully in a bed fit for a god, a light smile on his beautiful features.

And L, sitting monkey-like next to him, glaring down at him and thinking. Thinking of all the boy had put him through, of the trickery and lies, the horrible things he had been made to do, his poor heirs. And of Watari.

And that thought made L angrier than anything else did.

He knew, he really did, that on some level, Light and Kira were entirely different men, within the same body. He knew in his heart, Light would never do the atrocities that Kira had performed.

L reached out one bony hand and stroked it through the boy who was a god's auburn hair. The slight smile increased.

L flexed his fingers and reached over the boy to the bedside lamp, it had a heavy metal base and his weak arms struggled with it at first.

He shifted, slowly, oh, so slowly, over the god, straddling his body in case he awoke.

His fingers tightened around the icy iron lamp in anticipation.

Here it was. Here was the moment when it all shattered, here was when he freed the world and did the only thing he could to try and save his boys. His last-ditch effort to liberate the world for generations to come. There would be backlash, he was certain, but god willing, he wasn't already too late.

The slamming noise it made on first impact was delicious. L felt a manic grin break across his face and didn't try to stop it as he brought the weapon down again. Blood splattered up and against his face, he laughed and hit harder.

Weather or not Light woke up wouldn't be an issue anymore, L kept hammering the object against the god's head, until that pretty face was little more than bone and blood and the fleshy pulp of what was once skin.

L didn't stop until his weak arms were simply too tired to lift anymore. He dropped the lamp and heard it smash on the floor as he rolled over, ignoring the faint squelch of the blood-soaked mattress.

He looked back at what was left of Kira and grinned once more.

"I'm sorry Light-kun," he purred, "But some things you can't forgive."


	76. Faith

#76 Faith

A/N: Just a note, drabbles will not be as regularly updated for a bit, this is due to University actually requiring me to do some work. I was not informed of this! -

"How do you do it?"

Mikami's head lifted slightly, his long dark bangs falling over his glasses, his eyes fixed on the head of his god, resting in his lap, strawberry blonde locks a stark contrast to the starched black of his suit trousers.

It had been five years. Five years since L ended the Kira case with Higuchi's arrest. Five years since the Yotsuba syndicate had fallen.

Mikami had been the prosecutor who took them down. That was how they met.

Three years since Light came out to his family, was promptly kicked out for shaming his family, and moved into Mikami's own humble abode.

Three years since L had hired Light to be his representative in Japan.

And still, every night, the boy would voice that same enquiring, sad little question to his lover.

"Do what, kami?" he questioned, noting his boyfriend's playful smirk at the nickname. Mikami always said his beauty was godlike. This was how he always responded to Light's question, even when they both knew full well what it was, and what the answer would be.

Light sighed softly at the sight of his older lover, then nuzzled his hand. "Go out every day and try to defend justice when so many people just try to bring it down? How can you do it day after day?"

Mikami's wry smile, as always, made Light's heart flutter, and made him forget a time before the lawyer, when he was so angry and frustrated at himself all the time. That small smile was all he ever wanted.

"Kami, I don't do it for a reward, I do it because it's the right thing to do… what's more…" here, he leant down, as always, and kissed Light's lips, though to be honest it was more a tender brush of skin together, anything more would have spoilt the moment.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he purred, "I have faith."


	77. Strawberries

#77 Strawberries

Such a sweet, and yet so sour scent. It permeates the investigation room, seeping into all of our minds and settling there, making us think of hot summer afternoons and long, cool drinks.

Light is annoyed by it, but then it doesn't take a lot to annoy Light Yagami, the man who does not suffer fools lightly. In any case, he scarcely needs another reason to be angry at L.

L, he's the source of that scent. Him and his strawberries, piled up high on a silver tray beside him.

His thin white fingers reach and pluck yet another one of the garnet fruits and he lifts it slowly to his mouth. His tongue comes out first to sample the red intruder, memorising every dimple of seed, every last trace of flavour on the skin, before slowly that talented tongue sweeps around the jewel of berries and pulls it in.

The expression on his face is positively indecent as he bites and the juices hit his taste buds, more suited to a porn film than to snacking.

Lights eyes are fixed on him, his face is somewhere between disgust and lust, caught between throwing the tray to the floor or throwing the man on a bed.

He makes his decision between the two when L reaches for another fruit. As the strawberry makes its way to L's mouth, Light's arm shoots out and grabs his wrist.

For a moment neither of the two breathe.

Light pulls L's hand towards his own mouth, his own tongue, pink and delicate, darts out and wraps around the fruit, pulling it and L's fingers in.

Light's honey-coloured eyes never leave L's cobalt ones as he bites the fruit, and then sucks on the older man's fingers.

The heat in the room rises suddenly, Light's father turns red, then purple, getting up and blustering out of the room muttering about checking his phone messages. Matsuda mutters something like 'I told you so' and subsequently collects his winnings from Ide. Mogi is determined to keep his eyes and mind on his work.

The sound of soft suckles at fruit fills the room with that scent, accompanied now by something indistinguishable as anything other than pure pheromones.

Light doesn't release L's wrist, not until he is quite finished with the piece of fruit, not until L's fingers are wet and L's face has turned from papery white to a soft flowery pink.

Light swallows, and smirks.

L blinks owlishly back at him, then mumbles out, "Light-kun stole my strawberry."

"So I did." Light replies calmly.

"30% that you're Kira."

Light actually laughs a little, picking up another one of those fruits and biting the very tip off, the juice runs down his chin.

L has no hope of resisting that. The man bolts forwards like he was jet-powered and the next thing any of the investigation team knows L and Light are tangled together on the floor, the chain clattering and soft gasps coming from both of them.

Soichiro marches back in, his face still purple with embarrassment, he snaps out, "If you have to do this right now will you please take it to your room?!"

The two boys need no further hint, they're gone in less than a minute. L has enough presence of mind to reach out and grab the strawberries.


	78. Cabin

#78 Cabin

Mello's never quite sure what to make of it when he sees Matt in his element. When he's playing his games and winning, his character making such graceful movements to the rhythmic tapping of his fingers.

Or when he's hacking into someone's high-security files for kicks, always with his goggles down and a manic grin on his face.

His driving that was second to none, if he ever forgot how to hack he had a decent career in racing cars waiting for him, of course, if it was mechanical, Matt could make it _sing_.

And finally, on a trip back to the land that birthed him.

Mello wasn't sure why he'd agreed to it, but after all that mess with Kira he supposed his loyal getaway driver/computer guy/boyfriend deserved a vacation.

Mello didn't really like hot weather, half his skin would tan while the scar would ache and need factor 400 sunscreen before it stopped stinging, besides, it made his leather wardrobe stick to him in unpleasant ways.

Not Matt though, he happily switched his fuzzy clothes for a striped cotton t-shirt and denim shorts.

Those clothes seemed to have been chosen specifically to show off the fact that Matt had developed muscles from somewhere in his arms and legs. He always said it was thanks to Wii sports and Guitar Hero, but Mello suspected he'd been using the time wisely when he had to follow Amane into gyms. Mello hated it, his own body, with its half-tan and half-scar pattern, looked spindly in comparison, he'd always been skinnier than Matt but back home that worked, because Matt covered up. Here, Matt looked gorgeous, Mello looked malnourished.

Of course, being a natural born son of Spain, Matt _couldn't_ burn if he tried, instead turning a rich brown colour that made Mello think of chocolate.

Then there was the talking thing. Back home, Matt didn't speak to anyone other than Mello if he could help it.

But here, the second, the _very second_ they had stepped out the taxi into the little Spanish town where he spend his formative years, people were calling to Matt. And he was replying and waving back to them in a stream of perfect Spanish.

Normally the Spanish would have floored Mello, something about the accent did it for him, but he was too busy concentrating on not being jealous that _his_ shy little Matty was apparently popular here.

When they reached the cabin where they were to be staying for their vacation, Mello's mouth actually dropped open at how… easily Matt slotted in.

There were three or four children playing in the dirt outside, kicking a football around. It sailed towards the red-haired gamer who caught it with the side of his foot and sent it back to them.

Mello glared. "You never played football back at Wammy's."

Matt had shrugged, and kept walking.

Mello just watched. It was all so rustically Matt, the wooden cabin, the bundle of flowers tied over the door, the sweet smell of fresh bread. Though he'd never thought about it before, all these little homey things just clicked in his mind with the thought of his gamer.

Later, they went for a swim in the ocean. Or rather, Matt did, Mello sat on his towel complaining about the sand. Right up until Matt started showing off.

Mello hadn't thought the gamer could swim, let alone glide through the water like he'd been born there.

Playfully the red-head did a handstand in the water, his long legs kicking at air. He went under for minutes at a time and burst out of the water like a merman, gasping only for more air before returning to the water.

It was hard for Mello, seeing the boy he'd become so used to, shy, quiet, and graceful only through avatars, stride out of the water like an aquatic prince, totally in his element.


	79. Snow

#79 Snow

(A/N: I am aware this doesn't rhyme very well, I'm not a poet, lol)

'Twas the night before Christmas and in Wammy's house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the fire with care,

In hopes that Kira soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

Visions of Chocolate and robots danced in their heads.

And L in pyjamas, complete with night cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out in the garden there was a huge clatter,

L leapt from his bed to see what was the matter

Out to the doorstep he ran with such speed

Though out in the snow, shoes he might need...

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the look of powder sugar to the whole world below

When, What should L's wondering eyes behold,

A big black sleigh, and eight tiny death gods!

The Handsome young driver's face fooled all but wearer,

L knew in a moment it must be Kira!

More rapid than eagles his shinigami came!

And he whistled to each and called them by name!

"Now Gook, Now Jealous, Now Ryuk and Rem!

On Dovely and On Nu, On Shidou and Justin!"

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!

Now Justice, sweet justice, Justice for all!

And then in an instant L heard above him

The complaining and snapping, the gami's were grim.

And L drew back indoors, got to the lounge in a blink

And from the chimney, Kira emerged with a wink

He was dressed in a uniform, from head to toe

And his eyes, how they glittered, with evil and snow

A bundle of notebooks was slung on his back

A bag-full of evil, was that dusty old sack

He turned to the detective, his eyes gave a flicker

"My goodness, I imagined L would be handsomer!"

His mouth was a smirk, drawn up like a bow

His hair was blonde strawberry, tinted with snow

The end of a lollipop L held in his teeth,

rage clouded his mind like a festive red wreath

"I hardly imagined Kira would visit this day!

Or that Kira would be Light Im-a-gay!"

So handsome and smart was the boy called god

L couldn't resist checking out that hot bod.

A wink of one eye and a nod of a head,

And detective and subject ended up in bed

They spoke not a word, there was no need

and yet something good came from so sordid a deed

Somewhere among the pushes and shoves

Kira and Detective fell in love.

Up in the Sleigh, Mikami, an elf,

grew bored of his waiting, and took command himself

He bounced in the sleigh, to the team he gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle

But they heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

'Yaoi for all, and to all a good night!'


	80. Forget

#80 Forget

The fall of Kira's kingdom was long, and it cost blood.

L fought his way out of the palace with his bare hands and teeth. He did things he never thought himself capable of. Murder was so easy, after years of torture all his internal rules about hurting people went out the window. Later, there would be time for him to regret it and repent, but in those moments when he fled, L relied on his anger and misery to drive him through the security guards in a mess of blood.

And then came the uprising. Scattered children of Wammy's house threw off the shackles Kira's followers had placed on them, crept out of hiding, and came together again. Together they marched in bare feet on the homes of Kira's leaders, the last symbols of Light's reign, those who refused to fall even now their god had been killed in his own bed.

They broke into Damegawa's studio of lies and gutted him on one of his own shows, a bloody message to the world. Kira was dead, and Wammy's house was coming back.

They found Mello just in time. Half-starved and loosing the will to live. It took weeks of care before he could comprehend the truth that the horrible nightmare was slowly ending. He was free again.

Wammy's army grew stronger with Mello's rescue. Those who had followed Kira out of fear saw that there was at last a light at the end of the tunnel and joined them.

Kira's goddess was next to fall. She took out some members of the group with a scrap of the note she had hidden in her home, but they overwhelmed her quickly.

L paid little attention to how his followers killed her, his interests were focused on finding one small boy in that great palace.

He was chained in a tiny torture chamber. When they opened the door he screamed and started kicking violently, tears racing down his cheeks as he begged to go home and be safe again.

He cried harder when L hugged him and whispered in that gentle and familiar voice that it was over at long last.

He even allowed Mello to carry him out of there, his thin white legs unable to support himself. He kept bursting into tears at the smallest things, the red marks chains had left on his wrists, people kindly offering him food and hugs and the simple things he'd been craving for so long, things he'd forgotten existed.

Through every march on every Kira follower, Mello searched the houses. He searched every corner and closet, desperate to find any hint that what they had all been told wasn't true. He protested to L that it wasn't impossible Light and his men had lied about the missing third successor's death.

L thought that was wishful thinking, but didn't have it in his heart to tell Mello this. In this dystopian world the only thing they had to cling onto was wishful thinking and sheer determination.

When they found blood splatters in the slave's room of Mikami's mansion Mello broke down and screamed to the heavens that it wasn't fair. He renounced his faith and cursed his god for taking Matt. Then he cursed Matt for leaving him. Then Mikami and then god again as he ran out of people to blame.

It was late one night, L and his two surviving successors huddled around the fire as they'd lit in the shelter of an abandoned building. Other members of the army steered clear, huddling around their own fires, knowing that the three would want only each other's company.

L offered round cups of something alcoholic that they'd picked up on a supply raid. Near shook his head but Mello almost snatched the thing from him, throwing back the lot before holding out his cup for more.

"Mello should pace himself." L mumbled. "You're no use to us hungover."

Mello answered him with a glare.

Near coughed and huddled closer to L, anxious and fearful still. "L is right, Mello…" he sniffed. "Drinking won't bring him back. And it won't make you feel better."

Mello growled. "No it won't, but I don't care." He threw back another shot and shook his head at the burn in his throat. "I never effin told him, you know."

"Told him what?" L replied, of course he knew, but Mello needed to get it out before he'd start to feel any better about what had happened.

"That I loved him." Mello muttered, his voice breaking slightly with misery. "Twenty effin years we knew each other, six of 'em he was my goddamn boyfriend an' I never once told him I loved him." He choked and scrubbed the back of his hand at his eyes, trying to force back the tears. "I didn't deserve him. That's why he's dead."

Near shook his head, "Mello is being ridiculous. Matt is dead because of Kira."

L reached across and patted the blonde's shoulder. "I'm sure he knew how you felt… you just… forgot to say it out loud, that was all."

It was cold comfort to Mello. He reached for another shot.

There was a rustling from the shelter's entrance, a stick-thin figure staggered inside. He stumbled to the nearest fire; there was a mumble of conversation, and two of the small group he wandered into led him through the network of fires and huddled Wammy's children, towards L.

"L, another one wants to join up." One mumbled in explanation. "He said he knows you…"

L looked up from the blonde slowly, his already wide eyes stretching further. He nodded a few times, then appeared to recall something and shook Mello's shoulder violently.

"Mello, Mello, look."

Mello growled, staring into his drink. "Like I give a hell about whoever's shown up. Tell 'em to go join the ranks with the others and leave me with my goddamn drink."

"…M-mello?"

The voice was contorted. Hoarse from some infection or another, broken with exhaustion. Only a lover would have recognised it.

Mello was on his feet before his cup hit the floor. He'd turned before it had even began to roll.

He didn't look the same; it would have been impossible for him to look the same. His arms were criss-crossed with scars, not all of them self-inflicted. He was so covered in filth his hair looked more black than red. His goggles were gone all together, making his eyes unable to focus.

But it was him. It was Matt and Mello didn't seem to care how he had changed, or how he had escaped (which turned out to be a harrowing tale of breaking out of hospital and living rough for months on end). All that the blonde even said to him that night was "I love you" over and over.


	81. Medicine

#81 Medicine

L's tower was dark, only the top floor showed any sign of life. Midnight, and still one small soldier of justice was working away diligently.

Scattered around the small albino boy were various pots of play dough, some half-full, some empty. Multicoloured moulded animals stared up at him from their various perches on buildings of his lego city.

With a soft sigh, he reached for the cellphone placed carefully by his side and dialled.

Gevanni watched all this in silence, standing by the doorway of this main investigation hub, it was his turn to stay up with the new L and attend to his needs. Rester had disappeared to his room hours ago, complaining of a headache, and Halle was out on a job.

He felt sorry for the little boy. He knew that was a silly notion, Near had the maturity of someone well beyond his years, and he'd always known that eventually he would take over for his mentor.

Still, that didn't mean it would be easy for him, being expected to take over so suddenly and grow up all at once.

His watch gave a three sharp beeps and he sighed, glancing down at the face before quietly speaking up, "Sir, its time for your pills."  
Near gave a grunt in response and squished whatever creature he was creating with his dough.

Gevanni sighed and headed to the small kitchen, reaching to the one high up cabinet where Near's huge number of medicines were kept.

Another reason for him to feel sorry for the boy. The exact number of tablets varied, depending on how heavy the onset of various symptoms were, but it was never less than ten at a time.

Tonight it was fifteen various little capsules that he sorted into the tiny cup. He shook his head and started to make the tea that Near insisted on taking with the pills.

This was part of why he'd been removed from active service in the FBI, he knew that. Oh, he was excellent at infiltration and spy work, but he had a worrying tendency to empathise. More than once he'd allowed the small fry's in his cases escape, the people who did what they had to in order to survive, who still had a chance to be good.

So he was sent to the SPK, to be a glorified babysitter to a boy genius.

And even now he felt so unbelievably sorry for his charge that some days all he wanted to do was steal the boy away somewhere where the world couldn't bother him, if only for a few hours.

He carried the tray out and set it down in among two lego skyscrapers.

Near scowled up at him, as he always did whenever someone approached him with the dreaded tablets.

"I don't want them. I hate them." He snapped.

Gevanni sighed. "I know, sir. But you have to-"

"Why do I HAVE to?" the albino snarled back, knocking over one of his towers bitterly. "There's already another child at the house, waiting for my place. No-one would ever know. Everyone who knew me is dead. It would be like I never existed."

Gevanni blinked a few times.

He reached and very gently placed his hand on Near's tiny shoulder, ignoring the flinch from his skinny shape.

"_I'd_ know." He mumbled.

There was silence for a few minutes.

Then a tiny white hand shot out and snatched up the cup, swallowing the pills in one gulp, before grabbing the tea and slurping it noisily.

Gevanni smiled and patted his snowy hair.


	82. Innocence

#82 Innocence

(A/N: sorry for the long absence, loads of drama at Uni, but I'm back for a bit and starting off with an Alternate universe, unpopular couple, oh well)

"Why don't you just hand me to the Police?!"

"Because I have always believed in your innocence, Miss Amane." Came the reply through loudspeakers.

Misa screamed in rage and kicked the nearest soft object, the sofa. How dare L do this? After arresting Light and handing him over to the authorities without a second thought, why did the detective persist in holding her captive on one floor of the building, like a butterfly in a jar?

"If I'm innocent why won't you just let me go?!" She snapped bitterly to the air, eyes scanning pointlessly for cameras.

Click. "Miss Amane does not understand the position she is in. If she is released from my custody the Japanese Police will soon find her and arrest her. They're looking for you even as we speak, they have more than enough evidence to give you the death penalty."

Misa glared at the direction that emotionless voice seemed to be coming from. "Evidence that Ryuzaki or L or whatever your stupid name is gave them!"

There was that click again, and now the voice was coming from a different corner.

"Miss Amane knows very well what my real name is. And I was compelled to give them said evidence, that does not mean I believe you to be guilty of anything."

Misa growled and span around again, her usually so neat hair becoming a whirlwind of gold as she sought the damn camera he was watching her with.

"Misa IS guilty!" She snarled. "Misa killed loads of people for Kira! Now give me to the police! Anything's better than standing here with some PERVERT watching me all the time!"

"I do not watch you all the time, that would be impossible and illogical, given that I am certain you do not have a death note on your person, or a Shinigami following you. And in addition-"

"How can you be so certain of that, perve?!" Misa shrieked, slumping onto the sofa and glaring pointedly at the ceiling.

"Because if you had either, I would be dead by now. It is rude to interrupt."

Misa growled. "It's not polite to lock people up and not let them go either!"

A soft sigh. "If you would calm down and listen to me for a moment…"

Misa threw her features into her very best sulking face, folding her arms and turning away from the ceiling, assuming he was watching from there.

"All right, I assume that childish expression is the closest you are going to get to listening. Miss Amane, while you have killed many, many people in the name of Kira, I don't believe for one second that you are guilty. Misguided, perhaps, mislead, almost certainly… Lonely."

Misa tried not to show any sign of being interested in what he had to say.

"You were very traumatised by the death of your parents… and I can only apologise on behalf of my profession for the fact that their killer was never brought to justice." There was that soft sigh again, like he really cared. A cheap trick, probably. "And then for that to be followed by a man stalking and threatening to murder you… you closed yourself off and ceased to trust. Perfectly understandable. And then, of course, Light killed the man who murdered your parents. You allowed yourself to open slightly to him because in your mind you believed him to be someone, the only one you could trust."

Misa pouted and turned over on her bed. She didn't want to listen anymore; he was getting inside her head.

"You killed out of a desperation for his approval. You wanted him to love you back. In your disturbed state of mind that meant murdering people."

Misa sat bolt upright. "Misa is not crazy!"

"I never said you were. Not many people could go through what you did and be as well-adjusted as you are."

Misa continued to frown. "That still doesn't explain why you're so worried about the police getting Misa."

Click. "Really Miss Amane, you're not that dense, you figure out why a detective of my standing would be attempting to keep a young lady from being arrested for something she did in a disturbed frame of mind."

Misa scowled, her mind racing, if only to prove to him she wasn't as stupid as everyone thought.

Well what did he have to gain?

A pretty plaything to observe?

Maybe more reward money if he 'discovered' her at a later date?

Learning more secrets of the death note?

She sighed. "I don't know… for fun?"

There was a long pause.

"I love you, Misa, it kills me because it doesn't make any logical sense and I don't expect you to love me back, but my wasted heart will protect and love you forever."

Click.

(A/N: Possibly TBC, if I can get my self-esteem back up enough to write again)


	83. Angel

#83 Angel

Not many understood why she was chosen as L's successor. Oh, yes she was bright enough, in the same way that all the Wammy's children were imbued with intelligence beyond their years, but of all of them there was no-one in the house more clumsy and disorganised.

Many people whispered that she was only picked because L fancied her. They were probably a little bit right, because L was a sucker for a pretty face and puppy-dog eyes.

No-one could work out what skills she could possibly bring to a detective's job. Even when she was a child, playing with L and B, their pretend games of Sherlock Holmes had always cast her as Doctor Watson.

That's what she was, if she was honest. Someone to follow L around and be constantly amazed by him. She played to his vanity, which is probably why he fell in love.

And B? Well, he was just jealous that anyone could be closer to L than he was.

Which is probably why he talked the red-haired Angel of Wammy's house into her suicide.

Oh, they never found any evidence to say she was murdered, but B was just that clever. He knew how to talk someone into his or her grave and never have to lift a finger. And he knew exactly when to time it.

L never found out about the baby. B made sure of that, he was very bright after all, and she was so far along, but wasn't showing at all, always so skinny.

B cut the child from her, and hid it away. He was good at hiding things.

He giggled to himself when he played with the baby, remembering that Angel wanted to call him Gabriel.

B called him Christopher, his mind chattering away to him about the appropriateness of it, ABC.

He sent Christopher away, to somewhere in America, a nice foster home, funded entirely by his own stolen bankroll. L would never know, he was sure of it.

B can't have been entirely a monster, because he left a substantial amount to the boy with copper hair and dark black eyes.

It was inevitable that one day, someone would find him. B always meant for someone to find the boy, one day, just to twist the knife in L's chest.

Mello watched the child playing on the front lawn, Matt beside him in the car.

"No doubt, the kids's Angel's." the Croat muttered.

Matt rolled a cigarette beside him, "Sure, if you say so Mello. I don't remember her like you do."

"Take your stupid goggles off and you might see it." Mello sighed, "L's eyes though."

Matt shrugged, lighting up, "Mell, any chance of you telling me why you made us drive out to the arse-end of no-where just to stare at a brat that may or may not be L's son?" a puff of smoke exited his lips. "It doesn't make any difference, face it. He doesn't know who his parents are, both of them are dead, and after the miserable bloody time we had at school do you really want to subject the kid to wammy's house?"

Mello lowered his head. "No… I know you're right, he's happy there, his foster parents love him, he's not gonna want for anything… it's just…"

"Just?" Matt prompted, starting the engine.

Mello sighed. "L was alive for twenty-five years, he solved some of the worst crimes imaginable, some of the things he did changed the world forever, and the only material evidence that he was ever born, that he ever _loved_, is running around on that lawn over there." He nodded to Matt, signalling him to drive. "After all this time, it's nice to know he was real."


	84. Air

#84 Air

(A/N: I've been stuck on this for months! Sorry it sucks! TT-TT

Matt liked to watch him working. Working on anything, a test, an essay, or even a special job from L himself. Anything that meant those navy blue eyes would narrow in concentration, and that skinny frame would be sat at the desk in their shared room for hours on end.

It was somewhat perverse, Matt knew, to like watching his friend as he gave himself headaches over work. But Mello just looked so beautiful when he was serious.

He often snapped at Matt, for just sitting there and being useless, or for being creepy and staring at him like that. It made him feel like he was in a fishbowl. Matt couldn't have stopped staring for anything though.

Mello was a work of art, Matt firmly believed. To everyone else in wonderful old Wammy's house, the blonde child was a homicidal maniac with a chocolate addiction that verged on psychopathic at times, and frankly, while he was attractive enough, he did look a little like a Tim Burton drawing gone wrong, especially when he hunched over his desk.

Maybe that was part of it, Matt reasoned, he liked Mello even more when no-one else did. It eliminated the competition for his attention brilliantly.

Still, he'd never be the centre of Mello's world. Because that spot belonged to L, with Near coming a close second.

Sometimes, when he was feeling daring, the red-head would point out that Mello spent more time thinking about Near than most teenage girls spent thinking about their crushes.

That usually earned him a black eye. Not that Matt minded, it meant Mello had touched him, after all.

He'd probably never feel the same way back, Matt knew. Even if Mello turned out to be gay, the most they could ever have would be a 'friends with benefits' situation. Mello just wasn't the 'settle down with one boyfriend' type. Unless it was L. Or maybe Near.

"If I turn round and you're staring at me again, ginger, I'm rearranging your face." Came the venomous growl from the desk.

Matt smiled sweetly to himself and kept watching him. "Yes Mello."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

"Then why do you always keep watching anyway, moron?"

Matt shrugged. "I guess just in case one day you change your mind."

Mello turned slightly, a bizarre look of confusion on his face. "What? You're weird Matt."

Matt kept that odd, sweet smile on his face. "Guess so." He agreed.

Mello rolled his eyes and returned to the latest assignment in front of him.

Matt wondered, as his smile turned slightly sad, if Mello would ever realise that to Matt, he really was something he needed to survive. Sun, food, water, air, and Mello.


	85. Let Go

#85 Let Go

Her life in her own hands.

Her own hands which were already slipping on the cold metal raining to which she clung. Her eyes, once so bright, dead and dark, staring, not down at the earth, but into the sky.

At the sun. The little birds in silhouette, flying across before her.

Why hadn't he taken her with him? That would have been fairness, if he'd wrote her name down. At least then she would be with him.

But no, he'd made his choice and that choice had been Takada. Kira's chosen goddess.

Misa Amane? Who was she? A silly girl who wasted her life on a man who didn't love her. A girl with no family left to comfort her. A girl who belonged to no-one, because no-one wanted her.

At least she'd leave a beautiful corpse. She'd made sure of that, she'd dressed herself up as beautifully as she knew how.

It hadn't occurred to her what a body dropped from so high would look like when it hit the ground.

It was so cold, up here. The railing was like ice under her fingertips.

It was all so, so far away, tiny little figures wandering back and fourth below her, with their little bundles of numbers.

Her hands loosened, it would be so, so easy. She wouldn't even feel it, right? She'd be gone before she hit the pavement.

Before her brains were smeared across the stone and she was nothing more than blood and shattered bone coated in black lace.

Just…

Her hands released. Her body swayed forwards and down.

Her hair trailed behind her like a yellow bridal veil.

Hands grasped hers.

Her head jerked up in shock and horror.

A woman smiled down at her. A Beautiful woman with bright golden eyes and long white hair.

Ribbons and frills decorated her pearly locks, pale lavender tinting her whiteness. She wore a gown of gold, and resting on her back, looking as natural as anything in the world, there were golden wings.

Misa said nothing. The wind took her breath.

The woman spoke. "Misa."

Her eyes widened.

"An angel?" She whispered.

The creature shook her head. "I have not yet earned my place as an angel… you may call me a timekeeper. Your time is not yet neigh."

Misa blinked back tears.

"I'm giving you the choice Misa Amane. You may still go home, and though it will hurt, eventually, it will go away. Or you can let go, and accept your fate in mu." Those golden eyes flickered. "I assure you from experience, forever in nothingness is far worse than hell could ever be."

Misa's hands tightened.

"Make your choice Misa."

The girl choked. "There's nothing for me down there."

The timekeeper shook her golden head. "That is not so, there is always something. You will see, if you choose to live. That much I promise you."

Misa's eyes clenched shut.

"Don't let go." She squeaked.

A moment later and she found herself on her knees on the rooftop, as if she had never been anywhere else.

The ground around her was covered in something gold, which wasn't rust, as wasn't dust.

Slowly, she scooped up a handful, walked to the stairwell, and began her decent back into the real world.


	86. Book

# 86 Book

Light's pen moved rapidly. One name, then another, and another. People dying one by one, with one swipe of ink another life ended. It was enjoyable, after a while, to think of new and interesting ways for their demises.

And to do all this while his nemesis sat not two feet away was exhilarating. He actually felt vaguely breathless.

It was so _simple. _Hiding the notebook in one of his own schoolbooks, sitting and pretending to write out essays of research into criminology, being such a good, dutiful student, keeping up with all his schoolwork plus helping to catch that _awful_ Kira.

All the time he was killing people. Right in front of L's stupid blank face.

The fool. Eventually, Light would see him die, and he would die in a particularly unpleasant and interesting way.

Maybe he'd have one of the investigation team kill him. Matsuda, yes, he'd do, he was supposedly a crack-shot. It was about his most redeeming feature.

The best part of thinking up interesting ways to kill people, Light realised, was that they couldn't be traced back to Kira. Oh, yes, his message was the heart attack that told people Kira had claimed another victim, but the other ways were fun too. Besides, they all deserved to die, it was just a question of which ones deserved to die _more_, the ones who deserved to suffer, to scream and beg for mercy, to fall, weeping at his metaphorical feet.

It was so damn _easy _to work the names of criminals into the paper. Even if L looked, he'd never suspect a thing. Light was just writing about current cases, after all. Nothing suspicious there.

The old man would have to go too.

He was too dangerous, hanging around L like a vulture over his work. He was bound to be as able as L to stop Light.

If Light was honest, he was almost certain that should anything happen to L, Watari would not let a little thing like evidence stop him from placing Light in a custody that would be, without a doubt, worse than death.

Another name. Light could hear the screams in his head. Righteous justice.

Soon, he knew, his followers would see their god, he would kill L, his handler, and then he would reveal to his people who he was, and then who would dare to stand in his way?

"Yagami-kun, you're all red."

Light shook his head, smiled in his innocent way. "Am I? It's warm in here L… and thinking about all these criminals makes me angry… I know what Kira's doing can't be justified, but even so… there's so many, L."

L nodded slightly. "I see." He lowered his eyes to the notebook. "Keep up your work, Yagami-kun, wouldn't want your grades to be Kira's next victim."

It was almost arousing; L had just _looked_ at Kira's murder weapon, and was still none-the-wiser.

L was sitting right next to the very man he was hunting and had just told him to _carry on_.

Scratch almost, it _was_ arousing. The sheer power and shamelessness of it made Light's eyes light up with glee. He forced the expression away, if L or Watari spotted it… well, they needed nothing to up their suspicion of him.

He suppressed the laugh that tried to rise from his throat.

Ryuk giggled behind him. "Lucky it's a book, right Light? If it'd been a scroll like in the old days ya'd never be able to get away with this, wouldya?"

Light scribbled down another name, grinning. If anyone had looked, they would have seen his eyes glow red.


	87. Tea

#87 Tea

He's really not much more than a child himself, I suppose that's why he gets along so well with the orphanage children.

Oh, he's in his twenties, I know, but owing to one thing and another, he just never really grew up. He actually still goes into deep sulks, won't eat any vegetables, I've tried and failed to get him to vary his diet. The best I can do is getting him to eat fruit.

The children are at such cute ages at the moment. Matt and Mello just about to head into puberty, miniature detectives, shuffling up to L when he comes back to the orphanage and whispering their little jokes between themselves.

And Near… if only he would allow himself to be touched, I doubt the girls in the orphanage would ever let him go, even I have to admit he's adorable, mop of white hair covering most of his face, one arm constantly clutching that plushie panda doll that L gave him as an infant.

He asks them into his room, whenever he's back, and they have tea together. It's the one time that Mello can be trusted to sit close to Near without trying to kill him. He still won't sit next to the white-haired boy though, L doesn't push him to do something that would so clearly offend Mello.

I think L does it as observation. I doubt it's anything to do with his affection for the children, though he does care about them, but the tea is some sort of observation test, I think.

His black eyes always fix on their little hands as they sip at the drinks.

"Nail polish, Mello?"

Mello's face flushes and he mumbles that he likes the look of it. L shrugs and nods, agreeing that it will, at least, stop him biting his round little nails.

"Which you still are, Near."

Near doesn't appear to respond. Then one small hand jumps to his mouth as he nervously bites at the nails.

L takes that little hand and places it back on the table. He ruffles the mop of white hair and tells him that nervous habits like that really ought to be got rid of as an early age. He drops two more sugar cubes into his tea, apparently not seeing the irony of his words.

His gaze flickers onto the third member's hands.

"You've started smoking." Those ebony eyes are fixed on Matt.

The game-obsessed child gives a little squeak and drops his cup. Mello rolls his eyes and starts mopping at the spill on his friend's lap.

There is a short lecture on how three minutes are erased with every tabaco-filled breath, on how life is a terrible thing to waste, and finally, how Matt is far too intelligent to be doing something as frankly stupid as smoking away his lungs, and especially at such a young age.

Matt glares at him through the yellow lenses, but doesn't argue, though that is more to do with the meaningful looks Mello is giving him than out of respect for the ruffled-looking man.

When I ask him later what else he chanced to observe about his heirs during this latest visit, he smiles very slightly.

His head raises and he replies, "None of them are copying me."

I don't understand, not at first.

With time, it dawns on me that he often chastises the children when they try to be too much like him. I recall the worry that was always in his eyes when Beyond was alive.

I thought, for a while, that he was trying to prevent these new three becoming another Beyond Birthday.

But it wasn't that.

After Beyond, he tried to convince me and Roger to shut down the orphanage all together. Only when we told him that all those children would loose their home did he stop.

But he's still trying to shut down our little genius factory. He's visiting them and trying to stop them from becoming him.


	88. Cheese

#88 Cheese

(A/N. that's a wtf title, right? Lol. Song doesn't belong to me, for anyone who doesn't know, it's called 'Its all about you' by McFly.)

"_Yesterday you asked me somethin I thought you knew…"_

Mello gritted his teeth and kept typing. He was _not_ going to justify it by looking up.

_"So I told ya with a smile, it's all about yo~ou"_

The blonde's typing became a lot more erratic as he got more and more annoyed.

"_Then you whispered in my ear and you told me too…"_

The source of his irritation? The extremely loud and off-key red-head occupying his kitchen.

_"Said you make my life worthwhile, it's all about yo~u"_

And he was cooking, which was Matt-speak for 'making a mess for Mello to clean up later, while I pretend to be useful.'

Ok, maybe not that last part.

"_And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to,"_

The horrible singing, in a voice that was far too cracked from smoking to be melodic, stopped.

"Hey Mello, do we have any bread left?"

Mello reached into his leathers for the chocolate bar. Chocolate, that would make things better. "Try the bread bit, dickhead."

There was a ruffling noise, then a shout of, "Oh, thanks!" and then it started again.

"_But if you deny me one of your kisses, dunno what I'd do~"_

God, there was a smell coming from the kitchen as well now. Toast. Oh well, even Matt couldn't mess up toast.

"_So hold me close and say three words like you used to do,"_

Why did he have to _sing_, for god's sake? Mello didn't do that, he didn't feel the need to randomly break out in show tunes during his work.

"_Dancin on the kitchen tiles, it's all about you~"_

Another smell now. Burnt, and not one Mello recognised.

"What did you wreck this time?" Mello growled.

The singing stopped again, mercifully, Matt was about to go into the long chorus.

"Nothin Mells, it's cheese on toast, I can manage that."

Mello snorted.

"_-But if you denied me one of your kisses, dunno what I'd do~, So hold me close and say three words like you used to do~"_

Oh thank Jesus, he was walking out of the kitchen, with a plate of something that might have been cheese on toast, it was hard to tell. Maybe the singing would stop now.

_"Dancin on the kitchen tiles, yeah you make my life worth while, so I told you with a smile,"_

The red head flopped onto the creaking old couch next to Mello and grinned, taking a bite from his lunch and swallowing. Idiot probably knew he was annoying Mello and relished it.

And then his hand shot out, grabbed Mello's wrist that held the chocolate and tugged it back from the blonde's mouth.

Before he could voice a threat or an objection, Matt closed the gap between them with a kiss.

The taste of cheese and chocolate should have made Mello want to vomit, he knew that, but the two flavours mingled nicely in his mouth, and besides, Matt's lips were always so very soft and tender, it drained any amount of anger right out of him.

Matt drew back, grinning all over his freckled face, before putting both feet up on the coffee table that supported three laptops and a lot of spying equipment. "_It's all about you."_

He hummed the rest of the song to himself as he ate.


	89. Spirit

#89 Spirit

(part of a series set in an AU, for more information see chapters 37 and 56. These are in no particular order but if you're familiar with Death note you can follow what's happening)

Light Yagami had a lot to be thankful for, he knew. As the son of a knight in the service of King L he was afforded certain luxuries. He never had to be afraid for his life.

Not like the poor. The poor for whom every day was another long struggle through mud and misery just to survive. He pitied them. There was, he felt, a much better way of running things.

Not that he would be so presumptuous to say that the king didn't care… it was just that… well, with crime so rampant among the poor, would it not be easier to execute all criminals, not just those convicted of the worst crimes?

Of course he knew that King L was something of a recluse, even he, who had lived in the castle his entire life, had never caught sight of the monarch. It was said the man was deformed, a hunchback, and so ashamed to show his face in court.

He thought of this a lot, as he sat in the great library of the castle. His eyes wandered to the windows, watching the sun setting over the forests.

And by chance, he saw a shape, tumbling from the sky like a gift from god.

His eyes wide, he rose and slowly left. Slowly, because finding an enchanted relic in this kingdom could bring too much attention.

Not that he intended to conceal such a thing, of course. He just wanted to examine it.

He was rather disappointed when he reached the courtyard and discovered only a tatty old black book, half-buried behind a pile of straw by the stables.

Curious, he flipped open the first page.

Someone had written something there. Someone who obviously wasn't used to holding a quill, the handwriting was more a scrawl than script.

_Whomsoever's name should be writ 'pon this notebook shalt die_

Young Lord Yagami's golden eyes widened.

A magic book, then. It really was a gift from god. He gasped, and quickly hiding the book in his jersey, ran to his private chambers. Her very nearly knocked over Princess Misa, only pausing long enough to give her a cursory bow and to make certain her maids had not been injured, before sprinting up the spiral staircase to his bedchamber.

Here he laid the book down on his writing desk, and stared once more at those words.

There were more, calling themselves rules. It amused him that there should be rules about death by magic. It made the whole business seem cleaner.

He could barely breathe. The Lord's hands shook.

"With this… with this, thy magic, I can perform wonders…" he breathed out.

"Hahah, interesting, not many a human has received a magic notebook and decided to change the world for the better."

Light span around, falling from his chair with a yell of fright as he eyes fell on the creature laying across his bed.

He couldn't describe it, except possibly as something like a cross between a badger and a court jester with fangs. He noted the silver crucifixes in the creatures clothes and swallowed.

"Ar…are you a messenger from god?"

The creature laughed again, "Hardly. I guess the closest word you have for what I am is a djinn, a djinn of the book." It chuckled. "My true name is far too hard for you to pronounce, so you can call me Ryuk."

Casually, the beast reached one elongated arm over Light's head and took an apple from the basket on his desk. "Mmm, apples."

Light swallowed his fear and forced himself to his feet. He was not in line to be one of the king's personal advisors for no reason. He was a bright boy, miles ahead of the other nobles his age.

"You," He said sharply, pausing to work out what to address the beast as. 'Creature' sounded too common, while 'Ryuk' was too familiar for Light's tastes.

"…Spirit! As I am now the owner of this magical book, I'm also your owner. And I think, if I am to carry out my plans to make this kingdom a better place, you had best tell me all you know about these rules."

Ryuk grinned widely, biting into the red fruit. "Heheh, get me some more apples and you have made yourself a deal, Light Yagami."


	90. Broken

#90 Broken

Jealous wept as he died for her. Not a surprising fact, but for the knowledge that Shinigami, being creatures of death, are not supposed to be able to weep. They chuckle and cackle and speak in voices like ancient paper, but they do not weep.

Jealous wept. He wept for his own wretched existence. For the fact that not matter how much he gave to that beautiful blonde human, he couldn't stop time turning and changing her life from one of youth and happiness to one of bitter memories.

He wept because she might never know his name, and he wanted so badly to hear her say it, just once, as if hearing her say it would change all that he was. He wouldn't be a rag-doll of bone and rotted flesh, but a handsome creature of polished ivory and feathery creations, like the far higher-ranking shinigami.

He wept because it hurt. He felt pieces of himself falling away even as he scribbled the name of the man who was supposed to kill his beloved Misa. His large, clumsy fingers burst at the seams and covered his notebook in a fine powder that was not rust, and was not dust.

He wept because he had never got up the courage to tell his companion on his vigil, Rem, that he had _always_ found her beautiful.

And just like that, he was gone. Lost in the endless desert the Shinigami called home.

Rem tried to scoop some of the powder that remained into her talon-ish hands. It didn't really work, but she poured what she could gather into the viewing orb, and watched it rain over the world of the mortals. It seemed like something Jealous would want.

Rem wept when her options ran out. She had no idea what was happening until the first teardrop hit her notebook. And then it was a frightening dash to scribble down the two names. She knew it would have to be two, if she left the old man, he would doubtless keep the investigation going and have Misa arrested and killed.

Dear, beautiful little Misa.

Misa who had _known_ she was still there, the few times Rem chose to follow her when the model lost her memory. Misa had _known._ She'd turned around and asked if anyone was there.

That counted for something, surely?

It hurt. It hurt so badly and Rem knew that if she were any weaker she would have screamed. She had no idea how Jealous had held back his own screams of agony. Her bandages unravelled and spilled fine, twinkling stardust over the metal floor.

It was strange, but all Rem could think of was how much she _hated_ Light Yagami. She knew as she always had that Ryuk had started this whole terrible sequence, but Light Yagami was the one who had manipulated the rules like this. He was the one who was destroying Misa, one little piece at a time. He was going to keep chipping away at her until there was nothing left but a mess of shattered pieces.

When she opened her eyes again, there was a hand being offered to her.

A human hand. At least in shape, it looked as if some enterprising mad scientist had stitched the fingers on. She followed the arm, eyes widening at the large, clumsy stitches that joined pale skin to what looked like leather.

There was a face up there. A handsome young man, somehow still good-looking despite the row of threads that held his face together. He was smiling gently.

He spoke in a voice she knew. "I _always_ said you were beautiful."

Rem looked down at herself, and saw porcelain skin, not bone. Saw a long white robe trimmed with lavender ribbons not large feathery wings.

Saw graceful, gentle hands, like Misa's, not talons.

And it didn't hurt anymore, her insides weren't falling out around her, her heart wasn't in two pieces anymore.

She took Jealous' hand, and followed him.


	91. Bible

#91 Bible

(a/n: apologies for any mistakes I make here, I've got a bad cold D: also this has religious themes, I freely admit I'm pretty ignorant of religious stuff, so if you think you might be offended by lack of knowledge, don't read this chapter. )

Mello hated being ill. He hated the solitude more than anything, the throwing up and headaches at least gave him an excuse to not be thinking of Near and how to beat him all the time, but the solitude was awful.

Wammy's house had a strict policy on sickly children. If it was catching, you were quarantined. Minimised the risk of a hundred little genius' coming down with the flu at an awkward moment.

So Mello was usually left alone in his double room. They even removed his roommate and best friend, kicking and screaming, because Matt's oxytocin deficiency, the reason he needed those silly goggles, also meant that he craved the companionship of someone he trusted implicitly. And in this hyper-competitive environment, the only person he could trust like that was Mello.

They'd been put together as an afterthought, when one too many orphans arrived at once and the only option was to turn one of the rooms into a twin. Mello and Matt had been five and four years old, respectively. Mello had been the same angry child he was today, but more unfocused, and Matt hadn't spoken a word except to complain that he was cold, something that was to be expected, after leaving his sunny homeland.

Watari and Roger had never expected the two to latch together as they did. And now, nine years later, you couldn't get the twin 'M's apart with a crowbar.

Really, Roger should have known that Matt, being third, was smart enough to sneak his way back into Mello's room without leaving a trace, and certainly he adored Mello enough to do so at every opportunity.

They'd play Matt's videogames together, watch movies and make fun of the inaccuracies, and when that got boring, played endless games of tic-tac-toe and other paper games. Mello refused to even touch board games, associating them too much with his hated albino rival.

Sometimes, if Mello was in the right mood, he let Matt read to him. They got through the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy during one particularly bad bout of chicken pox.

Mello would never admit that he found Matt's voice very soothing and comforting, a very light tenor, only just broken from pre-pubescent squeaking. And there was something so peaceful about the act of laying in his bed and knowing that someone was sat beside him, reading him stories that he already knew, but loved all the same.

He joked once that it was almost motherly, especially when Matt would reach across just as he was nodding off, and ruffle his hair very gently. Sometimes he even rearranged the blankets over his blonde friend.

Matt, for his part, would just smile very gently and nod.

It was during one long, dull, illness, when the pair had exhausted even the furthest corners of Wammy's library that Mello had nodded to his own copy of the Bible.

"Read that to me."

Matt had made a face, "Mello… come on, it's not exactly reading material, you'll only yell at me when I mispronounce things."

Mello gave a little groan, snuggling against his pillow, knowing exactly how to twist Matt around his little finger. "Please, Matty?" he cooed helplessly. "It'll make me feel so much better."

Matt sighed helplessly, unable to resist those heavily lidded blue eyes, "Ok, ok… from the bookmark?"

Mello smiled slightly. "No, that's there to remind me of my prayers… go from where the page corner's turned down."

The hours ticked by slowly. Matt bit his lip as he told stories of God and his chosen, of what was good and what was sinful.

But when it came to the story about what God did to the sodomites, the red-haired boy snapped the bible shut.

Mello opened one eye, halfway into dreamland and in no mood to stop. "Mh?"

"Mello, do you really believe all that?" the red-haired boy squeaked. Then shook his head, "Stupid question, of course you do. I mean, do you think that gay people deserve all that?"

Mello frowned slightly and sat up. His blonde hair stuck out like a dandelion clock. "Well… it's complicated, but it's right there so-"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "But you know there's plenty of research that says it's not a choice, its genetic, so it's okay to persecute people for something they can't help?"

Mello rubbed his muzzy head, wishing Matt hadn't brought this up now, when his capacity to argue was at an all time low. "Matty, it's not like that, it-"

Matt stood up, his face flushing pink and voice tight with anger. "Besides, God created everything, so he created gay people too, and he created love as well, and that's about the closest thing there is to the opposite of a sin, right?"

Mello grumbled slightly, "…I guess."

Matt's anger subsided slightly, Mello could almost see it draining out of him. He wondered privately why this issue had got him so wound up in the first place. "So then… it's not a sin to love another guy?"

Mello coughed weakly. He was too tired to debate. "When you put it like that, Matt, no It's not."

Matt smiled, and leant down close to ruffle Mello's long blonde hair, and plant a single kiss on his forehead. He stood up, replacing the bible carefully, and headed for the door.

He glanced back and winked playfully, "It's just the bible anyway, it's not like it's gospel." He chirped, without any apparent sense of irony, and hurried out into the corridor.

Mello shook his head to himself and tried to sleep.

(A/N: Oxytocin deficiency is a real thing, Wikipedia it. Not sure quite how it works but doesn't it make sense for Matt?)


	92. Coat

#92 Coat

A/N: Credit to Kari Twilight Mist for giving me the idea for this chapter :)

It was evening in Tokyo, the sky was lit up with a million neon lights, bouncing off the heavy rainclouds and making the sky one big Technicolor ceiling, disturbed only by the occasional flash of lightening.

Around Tokyo U students scattered like mice, some with umbrellas, some holding spred-out newspapers over their heads, many of them laughing together at some inside joke or another as they raced to the safety of their cars or buses home.

Light walked alone, umbrella over his head, eyes fixed dead ahead. He had no need of internal jokes, his mind was full of L, of Kira, of the certain knowledge that the notebook that lay accusingly stuffed between his schoolbooks was his key to becoming a god.

Behind him, Ryuk grumbled and growled about the weather, trying to position his wings in such a way that the rain wouldn't hit him.

Light had every intention of ignoring the shinigami and rushing home as fast as possible while still retaining his dignity, but something stopped him.

The forlorn sight of a man, not much older than himself, standing alone on the curb, face turned up into the rain, no umbrella or folded out paper, not even a jacket to cover his thin frame.

Ryuzaki, as he'd introduced himself. L, as Light was almost certain he was. Standing in the rain in his usual white shirt and jeans, soaked right through to the skin.

He looked so sad, and somehow even lonelier than usual.

Light sighed, cursing his own sympathetic nature and walked over slowly.

"Ryuzaki, what are you doing out in the rain like this, you'll catch your death."

Ryuzaki turned his large, blank, black eyes on Light. Light tried not to flinch uncomfortably under that gaze.

"I am thinking." He answered. "Watari-san is unable to collect me today, I am uncertain as to how to get home."

Light sighed and looked around. Really, he should have walked away, he knew that, but then that would have made him look more like Kira, so it was better to at least pretend to be sympathetic.

"…I suppose you could come back to my house, call a cab from there." He suggested. "It's not far."

Ryuzaki's glassy eyes glimmered. Light could almost swear he saw the wheels in his head turning.

"Yes." The shabby creature finally answered. "All right, Light-kun."

They walked in silence for some while. L didn't ask to share the umbrella, and Light didn't offer. The thought of being that close to L made him wince, and anyway, the dark-haired man was already soaked through, keeping him dry now would be a waste.

It was only when Light bothered to glance down that he noticed something that shocked him.

"Ryuzaki, you've not got any shoes!"

Ryuzaki stopped, then glanced down, apparently to check. "I find them uncomfortable."

Light frowned, "You'll catch a cold, or pneumonia!"

"I have an extremely good constitution, Light-kun, I rarely get ill."

Light just shook his head and kept walking, stopping as they reached the curb. He frowned down at the road.

Mud, mud and puddles of filth, possibly pieces of broken glass and stone. Even if this was L, it was practically inhuman of Light to make him walk through that barefoot.

With a deep sigh, as if this was the last thing he wanted to do in the world, he shoved the umbrella into L's hand and tugged his own coat from his shoulders, laying it over the puddle.

Ryuzaki looked hesitant.

Light glared up at him, "Come on, before I change my mind."  
Ryuzaki nodded owlishly and carefully stepped across the coat. Light picked up the muddy and ruined thing afterwards.

"Light-kun seems to have confused me with a woman." Ryuzaki said, conversationally.

Light bit his lip. "I did it because you'd have cut your feet to ribbons and then turned that into a reason to call me Kira." He snapped, opening the door to his family home. "Don't even start thinking its because I like you because I assure you, I don't!" he added, cheeks turning slightly pink. Was it a blush or from the warmth inside?

L smiled very faintly to himself and followed the young man inside.


	93. Ice

#93 Ice

A/N: based in the fantasy AU established in chapters 37, 56, and 89. They're not in any particular order but if you know DN you can follow what's happening. Please message me if anything here doesn't make sense.

Lightning struck one of the turrets on the stone parapet and left a scar of black scorches across the cold stone. The rain lashed at the two figures.

A man, tall and possibly once handsome, wearing the garnet robes of a king. Across from him, a boy, a boy in silver armour, a white cape blowing behind him in the storm, his pearly hair stuck to his thin scalp.

The sword in his hand bore the emblem of King L, the last true king of this land. The man in his robes was nothing but an usurper, an evil enchanter who had stolen the king's life and crown with one deft scribble in the magic tome he even now carried.

"Your Knights have abandoned you." The white-haired boy hissed. "Your Queen has been slain. We have your apprentice, driven mad by your magic, and Princess Misa has been captured. There is no-one left to help you."

The false king laughed. "You don't realise, Sir Near, that I still have many card up my sleeve. You really believe that your silly blade will turn aside my flesh?"

Sir Near scowled and swung the blade casually in slow circles. "This blade was given to me by the true King. How appropriate it is for me to slay you now and take back the crown that is mine by right."

King Light chuckled lowly, his eyes flickered onto the malevolent shape of the Reaper beside him. "What of the Archer and the Mage? I killed them both, what makes you believe that you will be any more able to end my reign?"

Sir Near flinched slightly. Mello and Matt, L's other two chosen heirs to the throne. A blonde archer with unparalleled skills, a young and gentle mage who followed his friend into the grave. They should not have died the way they had, Matt pierced in hundreds of arrows, dead in the gutter next to the corpse of his horse. Mello burnt to death in the hiding place of a holy building, alongside Lady Takada.

Near thrust the blade forwards, striking the false king's quill from his hand. Light screamed in rage but the young swordsman was moving fast, his swipes with the sword were precise and clear, slicing from the fake king his enchanted book, then the ermine cloak, and finally his blade rested on the man's neck.

Near was shaking with rage. Light was panting with terror. He swallowed hard.

"You won't kill me, boy." He snarled. "You don't have the strength of character to kill someone. You don't have the ice in your viens."

Near growled. "…I shall not kill you, but not because I do not wish to. I shall not kill you because it is not what King L would have wanted. The right thing to do is to throw you into your own dungeons." He lowered the blade. "Light Yagami, as the heir apparent to L's throne, I hereby place you under arrest. Enough ice for you, your majesty?" he finished with a sarcastic bow.

Light snarled, his head twisted to the dark angel that stood by watching. With a snarl he commanded. "Ryuk! I have never asked anything of you before! Kill this boy now! Kill him and all others who would take this kingdom from me!"

The creature chuckled lowly.

Sir Near eyed the beast. His sword tensed against Light's neck, but he did not stroke. Something was wrong.

Lightning illuminated the creature's face briefly, and Light saw with mounting terror that it was grinning far too cheerfully.

"All right, your majesty." Ryuk giggled, and turned his own enchanted notebook to the fallen king.

The swordsman and the false god read it together.

Light screamed, all thought of the sword gone, his hands grasped at the reaper's clothes, begging and pleading, screaming to the heavens that he didn't want to die.

Ryuk simply took to the raging sky, giggling.

The false king crawled after him, incoherent with rage and fear, he stood no chance of seeing the edge of the parapet.

Near looked away as the deranged man fell. He dropped the silvery blade and felt the rain on his face.

There was something, he knew, that still needed to be done. His grey eyes flickered to a golden shape on the stone floor. He lifted it up.

The crown. Of course he knew there would have to be a ceremony, he would have to be crowned properly, with all the pomp and circumstance the event required. But for now, for now it was enough to lift the golden circlet and rest it atop his pearl curls.

It was too big and he could tell it would slip awfully on his small head, it would need adjusting before the coronation, but the important part was done now. The crown that had been his mentor's was finally on the right head. Of course, ideally the kingdom would have been shared, between him and the bright blonde Archer, who had probably loved it more than any other man.

He picked his sword up and walked slowly back to the stairs that would take him to the throne room.


	94. Soul

#94 Soul

A/N: this continues from 'Bible'

Mello often felt guilty, it was an inevitable offshoot of his highly devout way of life, spent following either L or god's teachings. How easy it was for those two men to make him feel guilt.

But on this day his guilt was focused squarely on the fact that his best friend in the entire world had gotten sick, probably from all the time he spent sneaking in to keep Mello company when _he_ was sick.

The red-haired boy was currently tucked into his pokemon-patterned bed, a cold cloth over his forehead and covers right to his chin, making him look much smaller and weaker than he actually was. Mello felt like the worst person in the world whenever he saw him like that.

The blonde boy made a point of sneaking into the room, breaking the rules about quarantine, if only alleviate his own guilt about having made the red-head sick.

"Mnh… Mell… my tummy hurts…" he whined from under the covers.

Mello smiled fondly and ruffled his fringe, slightly damp from where the cloth had been resting. "I know Matty. Want me to go get you some meds?"

The head shook slowly. "Nnh… I'll only upchuck them again."

Mello forced back a small laugh at that. It had been so great earlier on, when that old fart Roger had forced some tablets down Matt's throat and he'd promptly thrown them back up all over Roger's new suit. The pair of them had spent a good twenty minutes giggling together about that.

"Well how about something to drink?" he suggested, sitting on the edge of Matt's bed and kicking his legs out of boredom.

Matt shook his head again. "No…" he grabbed the covers and pulled them over his head. "Now my head hurts too."

Mello gave a bored sigh and hopped back off the bed, wandering to the bookshelf they shared. Generally speaking he didn't touch any of Matt's books, game guides and movie tie-in's, not like his own shelf filled with reference books and files of old cases.

With a sigh and without really looking he grabbed one, not really registering that the covers had pages from a comic books stuck over them. He opened it and scanned the first line.

'_Coming out; a young person's guide to homosexuality…'_

Mello's mouth dropped open and practically threw the book to the floor, terror seizing his throat. The damn thing fell open at a diagram he really could have done without seeing.

It had to be a mistake, right? Matt picked it up for a joke, of course!

Trying to prove it to himself he grabbed another book, a manga, he knew Matt was into those Japanese comics, he'd usually try and nag Mello into translating for him and-

The first panel showed two extremely attractive and naked boys, doing things Mello had no name for an certainly no desire to learn.

"Matt!" he intended for his voice to sound enraged, but it came out a choked-up squeak.

Matt; poked the top of his head out of the covers. "What?"

Mello coughed. This time he managed anger. "What the _hell_ is all this?" he demanded, throwing the books onto the bed.

Matt sat up and peered blearily down at them. It took a second, but then the terror set in over Matt's face.

"Oh god, Mello I-"

Mello caught him a slap across the face, "You've lived in _my_ room since we were kids and _now_ you decide you're a queer?"

Matt, holding his head, glared back at his friend. "…How… how dare you?"

"What?" Mello snapped, caught aback.

Matt managed to steady himself, one hand on the headboard of his bed to keep himself steady. "You… you said just a week ago it's not a choice. It's like having blue eyes or something…"

Mello growled. "That's not the point! I didn't know I was sharing my room with one of _you!_"

Matt winced at the spite in his friend's voice. "…But nothing's different… I'm still me."

Mello shuddered. He tried to think of another argument to support his repulsion. He tried to remember the exact passage wherein god forbade things like that, and then remembered that only the other week matt had smashed that argument to pieces. He remembered how they'd spent every moment of their lives together since they were four years old. He wondered why Matt had kept something like this from him, and got his answer in his own reaction.

It was all too much. He shuddered and fell on his knees. His hand scrabbled for his rosary. He caught it tight and started to mutter to himself.

Matt slid onto the floor beside him and took his hands. "Mello… it's ok. It's ok, nothing's changed."

Mello sniffed and let himself fall forwards against Matt. "Everything's changed."

"How? We're the same people, right? Only difference is you know I like boys." Matt giggled slightly. "Not like I'm gonna molest you. Or start saying 'fabulous' and lisping."

Mello managed a slight smile at that.

Matt smiled back, then frowned slightly and shot to his feet. "Oh god I gotta puke…" he stammered, before racing out of the room and towards the bathrooms at top speed.

Mello sighed and picked himself back up, gathering the two books from Matt's bed to return them to the shelf.

Later on he told himself it was intellectual curiosity that drove him to secretly read the yaoi book cover-to-cover, twice.


	95. Betrayal

#95 Betrayal

Love. There wasn't a lot Misa didn't know about love.

She knew what it was to fall so far and so hard and so fast that it made her head spin. She knew what it was to want someone passionately and with the heat of a thousand suns and to love someone tenderly and warmly like a fireside on a cold day.

She knew why it was that women seemed to become more beautiful when they were in love, why the sun shone that little bit brighter and all aspects of life seemed to fall into place like a puzzle finally solved. She knew the words to all the love songs and sang them to herself, she wore roses in her hair and her heart on her sleeve.

And now she knew what it was to feel that heart smashed.

She stood before the wall-sized screen, eyes wide and body shaking. Someone to one side the task force eyed her nervously. Matsuda was speaking, trying to say something comforting, probably.

L was in the office chair before the screen, watching, impassive.  
On the screen, Light, love of Misa's life, her one and only, the man she was planning her life around, was kissing someone. Someone not Misa.

That alone would have been enough. But there was more. The someone Light was kissing was emphatically not female.

Misa knew what kisses looked like between people who really loved one another. She was staring at one now, gigantic and soul-destroying in its intensity.

Light must have known the surveillance was still being conducted. Ryuk would have told him. He knew and he was doing this all the same.

Misa felt her hand clench into a fist.

Matsuda's hand rested on her shoulder, his kind voice cutting through her thoughts, "Misa, you shouldn't have to see this, I'll take you-"

"Shut up!" She snapped in a voice quite different to the perky pop-idol tones she used on a daily basis. This voice had ice in it.

Matsuda leapt back as if she'd bitten him.

Her heels, usually a playful 'clack clack' sound, stomped across the floor to L's chair. She seized the back and spun it around. L watched her with glassy eyes.

"You knew I was here! You knew and you still put… put this on!" she shrieked in the detective's face. "How could you?"

L blinked owlishly.

"Answer me you bastard!" The model screamed in L's face. He shrank back in the chair. From across the room Watari started to approach, keen to protect his ward. L lifted his hand to stop the man.

"It was important to the case." L answered.

Misa drew her hand back and slapped him, the noise seemed louder than it should have been. The impact left L's cheek burning red, and Misa's palm much the same.

"I'll never forgive you for this Ryuzaki!" she snapped coldly. "You broke my heart." She turned and began to click-clack her way back across the room.

"Misa," His voice stopped her at the door. She did not turn around.

L nursed his reddened cheek with one hand. In a ponderous tone he spoke, "I should have told you in a nicer way, yes, but it most certainly was not me who broke your heart."

Misa started. Her hand unclenched slightly.

That was true, it was Light who was to blame. Light who had taken her heart away, made her love him, and smashed it.

Light.

Light who would _pay_ for doing this to her. Yes, she was vengeful, why the hell shouldn't she be? After all her life had thrown at her why shouldn't she make him wish he'd never hurt her like this?

She let out a sigh, turned slowly.

The task force shuddered at the smile that spread across her lips. Dark and wicked, something entirely unlike Misa. This was not the smile of a young girl in love. This was the smile of a femme fatale who would drain every drop of blood she found and make all mankind beg her for mercy.

"L," she began, in a voice edged with diamonds. "Light-kun is Kira, and I can prove it." she heard the shocked gasps and turned her sapphire glare on the task force men, especially Soichiro.

"Shut up! You all knew it, deep down, Light's Kira and I can prove it a hundred times over." She nodded to L, "And when he gets the death penalty…" her eyes flashed back to the image of the man she had loved.

"I want to see him _fry_." She growled.


	96. Song

**96: Song**

**A/n: Apologies for how long this has taken, things kept getting in the way. Also warning for sad themes in this chapter.**

Evening all, the Death Note here, once again appearing sentient before you to tell you the wisdom of the universe. No, I'm not going to answer any more of your questions, at least not directly.

I've seen a million lives end in a million different ways. I've seen things that would break your feeble little minds in two.

I always find it amusing how much you revere birth, but shun death. Death is the most natural thing in the world, you see. At least on par with birth, in my humble opinion, more so. You call birth a miracle, but how is death less of one? Just two sides of the same coin, after all.

Death can even be beautiful. Oh cease your gasps. Death can be gruesome as well, with spurting blood and nightmarish screams. I don't relish them anymore than I do the beautiful ones, I'm just the Note. Silly as it sounds Death is not a murderer, death is just the process. The ultimate physician and the only friend to the sick and dying, that which takes away the pain and ends the suffering.

Times can occur when even the saddest death is beautiful. The passing of an elder, surrounded by those he or she loved is probably what you're envisioning. I don't mean that.

Drowning, for example, is beautiful. Falling down and down and getting to that moment where you can't struggle anymore. Where everything is blue and endless, where even the sun is but a fading speck of cerulean light. Watching a trail of bubbles, rising like crystal balloons, slowly drift away.

Swans sing before they die, sad and beautiful, they sing and let themselves go to release. They, at least, understand the beauty in mortality, the sublime grace of something as natural as death.


	97. Home

**97 Home**

Strange how one word can mean so many different things, even when it only really means one. Rem never would understand human's reasons for creating words that didn't really have a definition. She tried asking Misa what 'home' meant and the little blonde creature had laughed.

She'd chirped, "Well it's where you live, silly."

Rem had blinked calmly, and answered, "So, yours is this apartment?" she nodded around the dark room, in which everything seemed to be covered with lace or cobweb decorations.

Misa pouted in confusion, then shook her head, "No, no, my home is right next to light… sorry, I guess that wasn't the best way of describing it." She frowned and bit her pretty peach lips. "What do you call the shinigami realm?"

Rem shrugged. It was a delicate operation with her wings. "I can't pronounce it in human. In shinigami it sounds like this;" she cooed out a stream of the shinigami language.

Misa winced at the garbled sound that, to her, always sounded a little like a hundred people groaning in pain. "Does that mean anything like 'the place I feel like I belong'?"

Rem shook her head. "It's more like 'the place I come from.' That's what home means, then? The place you feel you belong?"

Misa nodded, smiling now. "Exactly, Home doesn't even have to be a place, it can be a person." She sighed dreamily, leaning her head on her vanity table, blue eyes glazed with a far-off dream. "I live here, but my home is anywhere Light is."

Rem fixed her great golden eyes on Misa's reflection, and knew precisely where she belonged.


	98. Steel

**98 Steel**

**A/N: this continues on from drabble #80 Forget. You can follow it anyway but it's better as part of the overall piece.**

Kira's world fell in a haze of blood and mud. His temples were crushed and his followers slain without mercy in the march of the children of Wammy's house. Orphans who were once taught pacifism and nurtured into a gentle nature were destroyed by necessity, replaced by young men and women willing to do whatever it took to bring justice about for their fallen brothers and sisters.

When the last Kira supporter fell, the last notebook burned, the last shinigami banished from the realm of the humans, the children of wammy's house cheered. Watari's army had won. The sacrifice had been worth it, as they chanted L's name and sang and danced like they would never stop, as if the world was still the same as it once had been, as if they hadn't all killed people with their bare hands.

L hated that his precious orphans had their innocence stolen like that. He hated that Kira had made it necessary for him to make these poor children warriors. It had been necessary, though, and he had responded and made them that, for the generations yet unborn, he made his children into killers.

They began to rebuild the world. Most of Tokyo had fallen under Kira, it was only appropriate that it rose again by the long-gone hands of Watari. Under L's watchful gaze, the children of wammy's house began to build the world again.

Every day, as they worked, l would help, and then slowly, he would drift away to some quiet place where he could be alone and think. He'd think about Near, and how clingy the once-cold child was now, after his treatment at the hands of Takada, she'd turned him from a confidant young detective into an infant, desperate for any love.

He thought of Matt and Mello, their lives pushed so close to the brink, right over in Matt's case. How the two now couldn't be apart. In some ways it was sweet, that their misery had only made their love for one another iron-clad, and that now nothing would break it.

In other ways, it made L sad to see that even spending a few seconds apart so clearly pained the two. They'd gone from independent young men who allowed themselves love for one another not because they needed to, but wanted to, into boys who were so afraid of the other disappearing that if their hands weren't linked, they felt alone.

Mostly, he thought about Light. He thought about the young man who had once been, bright and handsome and a hope for the future all on his own. And then that damn notebook and its damn shinigami had found him and-

That was dangerous thinking and L squashed it. He knew that to think of Light and Kira as separate people was to absolve Light of any of the atrocities that he had committed. To care about Light was to forgive Kira.

It was hard, to forget the times when he and Light had been friends, rivals, _lovers_, but L had always been the strongest creation of Wammy's house. He turned his face to the sunset, watching the children work at their efforts to rebuild their lives.

He steeled himself once more against any thought of Light, and stepped towards the future.


End file.
